THE  GIFT  OF 

FLORENCE  V.  V.  DICKEY 

TO  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


THE  DONALD  R.  DICKEY 

LIBRARY 
OF  VERTEBRATE  ZOOLOGY 


HEAD   OF  TURKEY   VULTURE. 

From  life.     After  Shufeldt. 


SKETCHES 


SOME  COMMON  BIRDS 


B 

F3.     JVI. 


CINCINNATI,  OHIO 

THE  EDITOR  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

No.  327  Pike  Building 

1897 


COPYRIGHT,    1897, 


THE  EDITOR  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 


NOTE. 


A  part  of  the  material  in  this  volume  was  originally 
prepared  for  publication  in  the  St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat. 
Extracts  from  some  of  the  sketches  have  appeared  in 
well-known  periodicals  devoted  exclusively  to  ornithology. 
The  editors  and  publishers  concerned  have  generously 
permitted  the  reprint  of  such  material  as  the  author 
chose,  and  he  hereby  tenders  his  acknowledgments  of 
their  courtesy. 


550821 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


Page. 

1.— MEADOW    MUSICIANS, 7 

PRAIRIE  HORNED  LARK,        .....  8 
MEADOW  LARK,           .        .        .        .        .        .        .15 

BOBOLINK,        . 21 

DICKCISSEL, 28 

BARTRAMIAN  SANDPIPER,       .                 ...  35 

GRASSHOPPER  SPARROW 40 

II.— RESIDENTS   OF   THE   ORCHARD,      ...  47 

BLUEBIRD,            49 

HOUSE  WREN, 55 

CHICKADEE 60 

KINGBIRD, 65 

BRONZED  GRACKLE,            70 

ORCHARD  ORIOLE, 77 

RED-HEADED  WOODPECKER,           ....  82 

III.— TENANTS   OF   THE   HEDGEROW,             .  92 

LOGGERHEAD  SHRIKE, 93 

BROWN   THRASHER, 99 

TRAILL'S  FLYCATCHER 105 

GOLDFINCH, 109 

THE  CUCKOOS .115 

IV.-BIRDS   OF   THE    BUSHES 12i 

SONG  SPARROW, 1^1 

TOWHEE, 127 

BELL'S  VIREO, 133 

COWBIRD, 13g 

FIELD  SPARROW,             .....  145 

CARDINAL  OR  REDBIRD,     ....  151 

INDIGO  BUNTING, 156 

YELLOW-BREASTED  CHAT,          .        .                 .  163 

(5) 


5  Table  of  Contents. 

Page. 

V.-FRIENDS    OF    THE    HIGHWAY    AND    DOOR- 
YARD,          169 

THE  ROBIN,         ...                ....  170 

CATBIRD, 179 

BALTIMORE  ORIOLE,            184 

ROSE  BREASTED  GROSBEAK,            ....  190 

YELLOW  WARBLER,             ......  197 

CHIPPING  SPARROW, 201 

WARBLING  VIREO 206 

VI.— RAMBLES   THROUGH   THE   WOODLANDS,  213 

WOOD  THRUSH, 214 

CRESTED  FLYCATCHER, 220 

WOOD  PEWEE, 226 

PHCEBE, 22» 

TUFTED  TITMOUSE, 233 

RED-EYED  VIREO, 238 

DOWNY  WOODPECKER, 243 

VII.— BIRDS   OF    BEAK    AND   TALON,      ...  250 

GREAT  HORNED  Owr 252 

RED-TAILED  HAWK, 256 

RED-SHOULDERED  HAWK, 259 

AMERICAN  OSPREY, 264 

BALD  EAOLE, 270 

SPARROW  HAWK, 275 

TURKEY  VULTURE, 281 

VIII.— RIVER-BANK    AND   SWAMP-LAKE,       .         .  287 

TREE  SWALLOW, 289 

PROTHONOTARY  WARBLER, 295 

KING  RAIL, 303 

AMERICAN  BITTERN 309 

PIED  BILLED  GREBE, 314 

AMERICAN  COOT 319 

LEAST  BITTERN, 326 


Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 


I.— MEADOW    MUSICIANS. 


"  Now  the  meadows  are  blooming  with  flowers  of  various  colors, 
And  with  untaught  throats  carol  the  garrulous  birds." 

—LONGFELLOW. 

WHO  that  is  not  physically  incapacitated  has  not  en- 
joyed the  luxury  of  walking  across  meadows  and  fields, 
when  nature  was  displaying  the  unfolding  charms  and 
budding  graces  of  spring?  Such  excursions  are  healthful, 
and  can  be  made  profitable  as  opportunities  for  studying 
various  forms  of  life.  Early  in  the  spring  the  yellow 
heads  of  the  dandelions  beseech  us  at  frequent  intervals 
not  to  crush  out  their  fleeting  beauty,  and  as  we  gaze  over 
some  portions  of  the  meadows  we  imagine  that  we  are 
treading  the  veritable  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold — that 
gold  which 

"  Is  the  Spring's  largess,  which  she  scatters  now 
To  rich  and  poor  alike,  with  lavish  hand." 

At  a  safe  distance  ahead  of  us  the  striped  ground- 
squirrel  sits  erect  saucily  to  survey  us  before  whisking 
into  his  many-tunneled  burrow,  and  when  we  have  passed 
his  retreat  he  emerges  to  whistle  shrilly,  as  though  derid- 
ing our  apparent  inability  to  injure  him. 

The  birds  also  frequently  claim  the  attention  of  the 
lover  of  nature,  for  in  the  open  country  we  shall  meet 
species  interesting  and  handsome.  The  successful  student 
of  bird-life,  however,  should  begin  his  walks  abroad  very 
early  in  the  spring,  even  before  the  season's  alchemy  has 
transmuted  the  baser  brown  of  the  dead  vegetation  into 


8  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

the  green  and  yellow  of  the  dandelions  and  buttercups. 
Indeed,  he  will  be  well  compensated  if  he  is  afield  even 
before  the  snows  of  February  and  March  have  disap- 
peared. Each  month  has  its  characteristic  birds,  and  the 
species  most  abundant  and  prominent  in  the  earlier  sea- 
son are  more  easily  studied  because  of  the  absence  of 
others  whose  presence  might  distract  the  attention  of  the 
bird-gazer. 


PEAIEIE  HOENED  LAEK. 

The  first  genial  days  of  February  or  early  March  in- 
vite us  to  walk  beyond  the  limits  of  the  village  or  city, 
for  we  hope  that  the  bright  sunshine  may  encourage  voice 
and  activity  among  the  birds.  Along  a  road  between 
meadows  we  continue  our  ramble,  and  soon  the  familiar 
song  of  a  bird  is  wafted  to  our  ears,  a  song  possessing  a 
charm  for  us  not  recognized  in  the  performances  of  musi- 
cians of  the  later  season.  Climbing  the  fence  and  enter- 
ing the  meadow,  which  has  patches  of  snow  yet  lingering 
in  the  depressions  and  lower  areas,  we  scan  the  ground 
to  discover  the  cheery  songster.  We  have  recognized  the 
notes  as  those  of  the  prairie  horned  lark,  the  only  real 
lark  belonging  to  the  avi- fauna  of  this  section.  ^  The  so- 
called  meadow  lark  is  more  properly  a  starling,  and  is 
therefore  not  a  member  of  the  family  Alaudidce,  to  which 
the  horned  lark  belongs.  The  notes  of  the  horned  lark 
have  a  very  misleading  effect,  and  as  Lowell  wrote  of 
another  avian  friend, 

"  Far  distant  sounds  the  hidden  chickadee 
Close  at  my  side," 

so  the  horned  lark  sounds  far  distant  when  it  is  really 
quite  close.  At  times  the  notes  seem  to  come  from  a  point 
far  in  advance  of  us,  and  at  other  times  to  arise  from  the 
ground  nearer  us.  They  form  a  queer,  lisping  song,  be- 
ginning with  two  or  three  syllables  uttered  slowly,  and 
ending  with  a  series  of  hurried,  blending  notes  in  ascending 


Prairie  Horned  Lark.  9 

pitch.  For  a  time  we  fail  to  perceive  the  hardy  musician, 
until  a  slight  movement  on  a  bare  knoll  in  advance  of  us 
arrests  our  wandering  glances,  and  there  we  see  the  author 
of  the  ventriloquial  song  to  which  we  have  been  listening. 
Having  the  bird  in  sight,  we  can  understand  why  we 
were  so  long  in  discovering  it,  and  why  we  overlooked  it 
so  easily,  for  the  blending  colors  of  its  lilac  and  grayish 
brown  plumage  harmonize  so  closely  with  the  dead  vege- 
tation of  the  pastures  that  the  bird  is  difficult  to  discover 
by  one  not  acquainted  with  it.  Its  upper  parts  are  gray- 
ish brown,  lightly  spotted  with  darker;  the  upper  parts 
of  its  head  and  the  sides  of  its  neck  and  breast  are  a 
beautiful  vinacoous  color,  all  forming  a  close  mimicry  of 
the  ground  on  which  it  spends  the  greater  part  of  its 
time  when  it  is  not  on  the  wing. 

These  birds  are  equally  difficult  to  perceive  in  the  air 
or  on  the  ground.  When  flying,  they  frequently  give 
utterance  to  far-borne  notes,  which  at  times  seem  to  issue 
from  a  point  close  at  hand,  and  again  the  birds  are  appar- 
ently within  a  few  rods  of  the  listener  when  they  are 
really  overhead  skirting  the  field  of  vision.  Frequently 
when  they  are  feeding  they  utter  their  twittering  notes 
in  a  soft,  far-away  tone,  which  misleads  the  hearer  in  esti- 
mating their  distance.  I  have  watched  birds  feeding  near 
me,  and  when  they  uttered  those  deceptive  notes,  with  no 
visible  air  of  delivery  and  without  raising  their  heads 
from  the  vegetation  in  which  they  were  picking  at  the 
rootlets,  I  have  been  led  to  scan  the  ground  farther  away 
to  find  the  other  birds  that  I  imagined  were  attracting 
my  attention.  At  other  times  when  I  have  strolled  along 
the  border  of  a  meadow,  the  notes  of  the  prairie  horned 
larks  have  come  to  my  ear,  and  I  have  searched  the  field 
of  vision  to  discover  the  authors.  Presently  a  slight 
movement  on  the  ground  a  few  feet  away  would  attract 
my  eye,  and  the  larks  could  be  seen  feeding  or  running 
about,  their  admirable  mimicry  of  the  dried  herbage  hav- 
ing protected  them  from  observation  until  their  move- 
ments betrayed  their  presence.  In  our  excursions  over 
meadow  and  field  in  early  spring,  we  can  see  the  larks 
feeding  on  the  knolls  that  are  bare  of  snow,  now  running 
prettily  ahead  for  a  yard  or  more,  then  stopping  to  glean 


10  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

among  the  roots  of  the  dried  grass,  again  to  run  forward 
a  few  feet,  and  again  stopping  to  feed  among  the  rootlets.. 
I  have  frequently  seen  a  horned  lark  run  nimbly  for  many 
feet  over  the  naked  ground  and  pick  up  morsels  of  food, 
such  as  fallen  seeds  and  grain,  without  stopping  in  its 
course,  a  power  I  have  seen  exercised  by  no  other  bird. 

The  story  of  the  horned  larks  should  begin  with  the 
time  when  autumn  silences  the  voices  of  many  of  our 
summer  friends  and  the  chill  north  wind  drives  to  south- 
ern lands  hosts  of  the  birds  whose  manners  endeared 
them  to  us  in  the  departed  season.  Then  the  well-known 
notes,  almost  unheard  in  the  late  summer  months,  are 
wafted  to  our  ears  on  some  bright  morning  in  early  Oc- 
tober, and  we  search  the  blue  dome  to  discover  the  forms 
of  the  larks  as  they  flit  in  irregular,  undulating  move- 
ment high  over  the  meadows.  Sometimes  alone,  gener- 
ally in  groups  of  two  or  three,  frequently  in  flocks  of  ten 
to  twenty,  and  occasionally  by  hundreds,  they  pass  to  and 
fro,  heralding  their  progress  by  their  frequent  twittering, 
usually  flying  high  until  they  dart  down  suddenly  to 
alight  in  meadow,  ploughed  field,  or  feed-yards  which 
lure  them  with  the  scattered  grain. 

Though  a  few  of  these  birds  remain  among  us  in  Cen- 
tral Illinois  during  the  summer  months,  many  of  them 
retire  northward  with  the  melting  snow,  and  others  after 
their  broods  are  reared,  to  return  in  the  regular  fall 
migration.  For  a  few  days  subsequent  to  their  autumnal 
appearance  they  are  very  restless,  taking  wing  soon  after 
alighting,  but  gradually  discovering  more  familiarity  and 
boldness.  The  newly-sown  wheatlands,  thinly  covered 
with  the  short  green  blades,  allure  the  uneasy  visitors, 
and  many  alight  to  feed  in  such  fields,  generally  advanc- 
ing over  the  area  in  comparatively  close  order,  and  taking 
flight  on  reaching  a  fence  or  hedge.  The  evident  prefer- 
ence of  these  larks  for  fields  of  young  wheat  has  sug- 
gested for  the  species  the  local  name  of  "wheatbird." 
Pastures  in  which  cattle  and  hogs  are  being  fattened  for 
market  are  favorite  resorts  for  the  larks,  as  the  refuse 
grain  constitutes  a  large  part  of  their  food.  Late  in  the 
winter,  when  the  wheatfields  are  blanketed  with  snow, 
the  larks  may  be  found  congregating  along  warm  southern 


Prairie  Horned  Lark.  11 

slopes,  roadsides,  and  neglected  spots  where  seed-bearing 
weeds  are  standing  above  the  snow.  Gravelly  regions 
and  sandy  flats  and  ridges  are  visited  by  them  at  con- 
venient seasons,  as  such  places  furnish  them  materials 
which  assist  them  to  masticate  their  food. 

Do  not  imagine  that  these  vivacious  creatures  never 
discover  any  inclination  to  visit  the  villages  and  towns. 
Their  charming  notes  can  be  heard  in  the  villages  as  the 
birds,  usually  in  small  scattered  groups,  fly  over  in  passing 
from  one  locality  to  another.  During  severe  winter 
weather  a  little  company  of  these  birds  will  sometimes 
enter  the  larger  villages  or  the  suburbs  of  cities,  and 
sojourn  in  the  streets  of  a  certain  quarter  to  glean  their 
living  from  the  refuse  of  the  highways.  At  such  times 
they  are  quite  fearless,  and  will  only  reluctantly  give 
place  to  passing  vehicles,  often  flying  ahead  of  the  horses 
for  a  short  distance  and  alighting,  and  flying  back  toward 
the  place  from  which  they  were  first  driven  when  again 
disturbed.  In  the  road  they  can  be  observed  with  advan- 
tage and  they  are  easily  identified,  for  the  colors  of  the 
mourning  dove  largely  predominate  in  their  plumage,  and 
the  little  tuft  of  black  feathers  projecting  backward  over 
the  ear  validates  their  claim  to  the  title  of  horned  larks. 

My  first  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  the  horned  larks 
occasionally  visit  the  towns  was  acquired  one  night  of  a 
recent  winter,  when  I  walked  to  the  public  square  of  my 
home  village  about  seven  o'clock  in  a  swirl  of  snow,  the 
storm  having  raged  since  noon.  I  fancied  that  I  fre- 
quently heard  the  notes  of  the  lai'ks,  and  inferred  that 
the  birds  were  flying  from  the  lash  of  the  driven  flakes. 
When  1  drew  near  the  more  brightly-lighted  portion  of 
the  village,  however,  I  could  catch  occasional  glimpses  of 
the  forms  of  the  birds,  and  I  discovered  that  they  were 
flitting  above  the  electric  lights  and  were  reveling  in  the 
light  and  warmth  of  the  town  as  blithely  as  though  they 
were  in  the  breath  and  brilliance  of  a  spring  morning. 
Wise  creatures,  thought  I,  who  prefer  the  air  tempered 
by  the  draughts  from  the  chimneys  of  the  scattered  houses 
to  their  nooks  in  ravines  and  sheltered  weed  patches. 
Through  the  long  evening  I  watched  them,  and  even 
when  I  retired  after  nine  o'clock  they  were  still  flitting; 


12  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

to  and  fro  in  the  snow-laden  gloom,  uttering  their  single 
"  tseep,"  and  I  wondered  at  their  powers  of  flight  and 
their  indifference  to  the  "  whirl-dance  of  the  blinding 
storm." 

After  the  breaking  of  winter  on  any  of  those  warm, 
captivating  days  whose  brightness  is  suggestive  of  ven- 
turesome bluebirds  and  hardy  robins,  and  whose  influence 
causes  the  bird-lover  unconsciously  to  gravitate  toward 
the  fields  long  untenanted  by  the  forms  of  summer,  the 
nuptial  song  of  the  horned  lark  arises  from  the  exposed 
ground  or  floats  down  to  our  ears  from  aerial  regions. 
Truly  it  is  a  most  welcome  ditty,  this  first  bird-song  of 
the  young  year,  and  at  this  season  it  is  sympathetic  and 
expressive,  telling  of  more  genial  breezes  and  bluer  skies, 
picturing  green  meadows  and  livelier  landscapes.  It  is  not 
unlike  the  song  of  the  meadow  lark,  though  much  weaker 
and  less  musical,  forming  a  sweet,  pleasing  twitter  worthy 
of  a  less  dreary  setting.  This  early  song  is  the  harbinger 
of  the  mating  season,  and  thereafter  the  birds  congregate 
less  frequently,  soon  pairing  and  choosing  sites  for  their 
lowly  habitations. 

"With  the  advance  of  the  season,  the  males  become  more 
vivacious,  and  frequently  they  alight  on  the  top  of  a  fence, 
wall,  or  stake,  there  to  sit  and  repeat  their  madrigals  to 
their  lady-loves  on  the  ground  below.  While  rambling 
over  the  meadows  or  strolling  along  the  country  lanes  in 
April  the  bird-seeker  will  recognize  the  notes  of  the  lark 
seeming  to  come  from  nowhere  in  particular,  and  he  will 
scan  the  ground  and  surrounding  landscape  to  discover  the 
songster.  Soon  he  may  perceive  the  form  of  the  bird  as 
it  mounts  into  the  air  by  a  succession  of  irregular,  stair- 
like  flights,  until  it  reaches  a  height  almost  to  the  limit 
of  his  range  of  vision.  There  it  floats  in  the  flood  of 
light,  rising  a  few  yards  with  fluttering  pinions  and  then 
falling  about  the  same  distance  with  expanded  wings  and 
outspread  tail,  lisping  its  short  dicty  while  it  sinks. 
Again  it  ascends  in  short,  irregular  curves,  and  again  it 
sinks  singing  as  before,  our  real  American  skylark, 

"  For  with  a  lark's  heart  he  doth  tower, 
By  a  glorious  upward  instinct  drawn." 


Prairie  .Horned  Lark.  13 

It  will  thus  sustain  itself  in  the  higher  regions  for  many 
minutes,  and  even  hours,  rising  and  then  sinking  with. 
song  on  its  lips,  and  at  times  work  its  way  gradually  over 
the  underlying  area  for  more  than  a  mile,  until  suddenly 
an  impulse  directs  it,  and  with  closed  wings  it  drops  head- 
foremost with  the  velocity  of  a  falling  arrow.  Straight 
toward  the  earth  it  drops  unresistingly,  until  we  imagine 
that  it  will  surely  dash  itself  against  the  ground,  when  it 
quickly  spreads  its  wings  and  turns  abruptly  in  a  hori- 
zontal course,  flying  in  a  gently  undulating  manner  where 
its  fancy  leads,  usually  stopping  at  the  side  of  its  mate. 
I  know  of  nothing  more  thrilling  in  the  habits  of  our 
inland  birds  than  this  fearless  leap  of  the  horned  lark 
from  a  height  of  many  hundreds  of  feet  directly  to  the 
surface  below. 

It  has  been  said  that  these  birds  rarely  alight  elsewhere 
than  on  the  ground.  This  feature  of  their  habits  has  led 
the  boys  of  the  farm  to  style  them  "groundbirds."  In 
the  fall  I  have  seen  small  flocks  of  five  or  six  alight  upon 
the  telegraph  wires  along  a  railroad  near  a  pond,  to  which 
they  were  resorting  for  water.  There  they  would  sit  and 
utter  their  lisping  twitter,  one  or  two  occasionally  taking 
a  short  turn  around  the  pond;  after  their  return  others 
would  imitate  their  actions,  somewhat  like  swallows  in 
late  summer.  In  winter  I  have  seen  them  perched  on  the 
higher  edge  of  the  sloping  roof  of  a  feed-shed,  where  the 
yard  below  furnished  them  a  desirable  supply  of  scattered 
grain  and  other  refuse  matter. 

Nidification  with  these  hardy  larks  begins  early,  the 
melting  of  the  snow  in  February  and  March  disclosing  to 
them  suitable  nesting  sites.  The  early  nests  are  usually 
situated  in  hollows  along  the  sheltered  sides  of  shallow, 
open  ravines,  knolls,  and  hillsides,  preferably  along  south- 
ern slopes  open  to  agreeable  sunshine.  Later  nests  are 
oftener  found  in  more  open  situations  in  pastures  and 
corn-fields.  The  site  is  commonly  a  slight  depression, 
sometimes  beside  a  tuft  of  grass  or  a  projecting  clod.  The 
materials  used  in  a  nest  are  dried  grass  and  root  fibers,  and 
it  is  sometimes  lined  with  thistledown.  The  eggs  are  gray- 
ish or  light  green  in  color,  marked  irregularly  with  various 
shades  of  brown.  The  number  in  a  set  varies  from  three 


14  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

to  five.  The  eggs  average  .85  by  .62  of  an  inch  in  length 
and  breadth.  Second  broods  are  often  reared  in  this  sec- 
tion, and  hence  the  breeding  season  is  frequently  pro- 
longed from  the  middle  of  March  to  the  end  of  June. 

After  the  arrival  of  the  mating  season  the  birds  are  seen 
either  singly  or  in  solitary  pairs.  This  association  of  the 
birds  in  pairs  is  most  noticeable  in  February  and  March. 
The  larks  seek  their  living  chiefly  in  the  roads  at  this 
time,  and  their  familiarity  with  man  is  akin  to  the  fear- 
lessness with  which  they  regard  the  approach  of  a  vehicle. 
Sometimes  they  step  aside  to  give  place  to  it  without 
taking  flight,  and  often  they  are  so  close  that  they 
can  be  reached  with  the  driver's  whip.  When  they  fly 
upon  being  disturbed,  they  remain  together  and  otherwise 
manifest  all  the  devotion  of  a  pair  of  young  lovers. 

The  food  habits  of  the  horned  larks  have  been  partially 
investigated  by  the  U.  S.  Department  of  Agriculture,  and 
a  paper  upon  the  subject  was  published  in  the  Eeport  of 
the  Secretary  of  Agriculture,  1892.  From  the  paper  we 
conclude  that  the  birds  are  highly  beneficial,  though  they 
had  been  suspected  of  causing  some  damage  in  the  wheat- 
fields.  The  author  of  the  paper,  Prof.  Walter  B.  Barrows, 
states  that  from  the  evidence  at  hand  he  is  not  warranted 
in  believing  that  horned  larks  do  any  appreciable  damage 
to  grain  crops.  They  may  pick  up  some  lately  sown 
grain  or  grass  seed  which  has  been  left  uncovered,  but  the 
loss  thus  caused  must  be  trifling.  Their  evident  services 
in  the  consumption  of  the  seeds  of  such  pests  as  pigweed, 
bitterweed,  amaranth,  sorrel,  pigeon  grass  or  foxtail, 
bindweed,  knotweed,  smartweed,  and  other  weeds  of  sim- 
ilar character,  certainly  more  than  compensate  for  the 
trivial  damage  they  may  be  suspected  of  causing,-  and 
hence  they  are  entitled  to  the  respect  and  protection  of 
every  agriculturist. 

The  prairie  horned  lark  ranges  throughout  the  upper 
Mississippi  Valley  and  the  region  about  the  Great  Lakes, 
tending  northward  and  eastward.  Eastern  Iowa  seems 
to  be  the  center  of  its  western  distribution,  and  North- 
western New  York  is  probably  the  center  of  its  eastern 
distribution. 


Meadow  Lark.  15 


MEADOW   LAEK. 

The  warmer  breezes  and  brighter  sunshine  of  April 
daily  add  to  the  wealth  of  color  in  the  landscape,  and  also 
evoke  the  best  performances  of  the  meadow  musicians, 
among  whom  the  loud,  mellow  piping  of  the  meadow  lark 
proclaims  its  leadership  in  the  meadow  chorus  for  April. 
Scattering  its  melody  over  our  open  districts,  the  only 
well-known  bird  that  sings  from  the  ground  as  well  as 
from  higher  situations,  the  meadow  lark  is  truly  typical 
of  the  great  prairies  which  it  has  doubtless  frequented 
since  the  advent  of  civilization.  It  inhabits  the  eastern 
United  States  and  British  Provinces,  its  northern  limit 
being  from  fifty-three  to  fifty-four  north  latitude.  Its 
western  limit  is  the  edge  of  the  Great  Plains.  It  winters 
from  the  Middle  States  southward,  perhaps  regularly 
south  of  the  thirty-eighth  or  thirty-seventh  parallel. 
Occasional  winter  residents  are  reported  in  localities 
north  of  the  given  limits. 

Before  the  winter-browned  carpet  of  the  meadows, 
which  form  an  excellent  mimicry  of  the  plumage  of  its 
upper  parts,  has  been  brightened  into  green-  by  the  reno- 
vating touches  of  spring,  before  the^  yellow  rays  of  the 
dandelion  unfold  in  rivalry  of  the  rich  yellow  upon  its 
breast,  the  meadow  lark  appears  in  our  fields  and  pastures, 
opening  the  season  with  its  familiar  song.  In  this  locality 
it  is  among  the  first  of  the  songsters  which  herald  the 
advent  of  spring  by  their  presence  and  melody.  Not 
many  days  do  the  robin  and  bluebird  precede  it,  nor  are 
its  rich  notes  less  familiar  to  ordinary  ears  than  are  those 
of  the  two  species  mentioned.  It  usually  enters  our  lati- 
tude in  the  night,  and  announces  its  arrival  in  the 
morning  from  the  ground,  from  hedgerows,  telegraph 
wires,  fences,  and  even  from  trees  and  houses  in  villages 
and  rural  neighborhoods.  During  the  first  two  weeks  of 
April,  the  fields  are  resonant  with  the  melody  of  the 
meadow  lark.  Though  essentially  a  bird  of  the  rural 
districts,  at  this  season  it  occasionally  enters  the  towns 
and  villages,  and  sings  with  delightful  familiarity  from 
the  tops  of  tall  trees  and  other  convenient  situations. 


16  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

The  meadow  larks  utter  their  notes  when  on  the 
ground  or  on  the  wing,  usually  either  at  the  beginning  01 
ending  of  their  short  flights.  Crouching  or  walking  on 
the  ground,  at  our  approach  they  crouch  more  closely  to 
the  earth  for  a  moment  before  springing  into  the  air, 
scolding  us  in  a  loud  and  rather  harsh  note  for  disturbing 
them.  Taking  wing  and  still  scolding  as  they  advance, 
their  manner  of  flight  attracts  our  attention.  They  fly 
rapidly  by  flapping  the  wings  for  some  distance,  and  then 
sailing  for  ward  a  few  yards  with  expanded  pinions;  these 
alternate  motions  are  repeated,  the  outspread  tail  forming 
a  conspicuous  feature,  since  the  outer  feathers  are  white 
and  show  prominently  in  flight.  They  fly  somewhat  like 
the  bob- white,  in  a  steady,  straight-away  course,  though 
their  flight  is  less  swift  and  more  regular  than  that  of  the 
quail. 

.  The  song  of  the  meadow  lark,  though  simple  and  un- 
varied to  a  great  extent,  is  clear,  ringing,  and  rich  in  its 
mellow  fullness,  yet  containing  an  element  of  plaintive- 
ness  quite  perceptible  to  the  sympathetic  mind.  In  some 
localities  the  song  is  interpreted  by  the  words,  "  Laziness 
willkill  you."  Eesidents  of  other  country  districts  TTear 
It  fiT  the  children's  challenge,  "£eek.  you  can't  see  me." 
In  both  the  foregoing  renderings  the  syllable  preceding 
the  last  receives  the  emphasis.  These  combinations  ex- 
press merely  the  quantity  of  the  song,  failing  as  do  all 
attempts  to  aid  the  mind  in  forming  an  adequate  concep- 
tion of  the  quality  and  execution.  A  common  note  of  the 
meadow  lark  is  a  loud,  indrawn  whistle  uttered  in  a 
mournful  key,  sometimes  following  the  harsh,  stridulating 
tones  it  uses  in  scolding,  and  frequently  repeated  from 
the  top  of  a  small  hedge,  tree,  or  other  favorite  perch. 
This  plaintive  whistle  is  sweetly  expressive,  and  the 
minor  element  is  more  prominent  in  it  than  in  any  other 
utterances  of  the  meadow  lark.  Like  many  other  birds, 
the  meadow  lark  has  a  song  it  reserves  for  occasions  of 
inordinate  ecstasy,  a  song  that  is  executed  by  the  male 
and  only  while  in  the  air.  Soon  after  rising  from  the 
ground,  or  after  flying  some  distance,  it  repeats  in  a  hur- 
ried, ecstatic  manner  a  jumble  of  all  its  notes,  beginning 
with  the  stridulating  call.  The  whole  performance  indi- 


Meadow  Lark.  17 

cates  a  veritable  overflow  of  spirits,  and  is  accompanied 
by  aimless  soaring  and  sailing  in  both  curves  and  straight 
lines,  sometimes  upward  and  then  obliquely  downward,  a 
medley  of  chattering,  fluttering,  and  sailing. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  melodious  piping  of  the 
meadow  lark  can  be  best  heard  and  most  appreciated  by 
the  bird-lover  during  a  short  ramble  in  the  meadow  about 
sunset  of  any  perfect  day  in  middle  April.  Other  musi- 
cians in  nature's  choir  are  then  chanting  their  vespers 
from  hedgerow,  tree,  or  the  open  ground.  The  good- 
night ditty  of  the  song  sparrow  arises  from  the  summit  of 
an  adjacent  brush-heap,  the  clear  warbling  of  the  blue- 
bird is  wafted  to  our  ears,  the  faithful  sunset  carols  and 
interlarded  squeaks  of  a  robin  come  down  to  us  from  his 
perch  in  the  top  of  a  tall  elm,  while  from  nearer  sources 
we  recognize  the  twittering  songs  of  the  horned  larks 
and  the  tender  voice  of  the  mourning  doves.  Out  in  a 
convenient  meadow,  however,  we  remark  the  prominence 
of  the  meadow  larks  in  the  oratorio  to  th&  waning  day;  for 
here  and  there  we  note  their  presence  as  we  are  charmed 
with  their  mellow  plaints  and  their  ringing  expressions 
of  eloquent  sympathy.  The  sun  has  passed  beyond  the 
limit  of  golden  yellow  light,  and  the  blue  of  the  East  has 
taken  on  a  rapidly  darkening  hue.  The  voices  of  the 
fading  day  become  so  few  that  each  performance  has  ac- 
quired greater  prominence  and  interest,  and  now  the 
vibrant  whistles,  and  rich,  melodious  phrases  of  the 
meadow  larks  seem  to  become  richer  and  more  vibrant, 
even  as  they  are  fewer  and  farther  away.  Through  the 
period  of  gathering  dusk  we  linger,  held  by  the  sweetness 
and  charm  of  these  bird  voices  of  the  night,  and  not 
until  the  purple  darkness  of  the  East  has  finally  veiled 
the  trailing  glory  of  the  West  do  the  last  good-night 
whistles  and  songs  die  away  on  our  ears,  and  we  finally 
turn  our  steps  homeward. 

The  meadow  larks  do  not  prepare  to  rear  their  broods 
until  the  south  winds  have  dried  the  hollows  of  the 
meadows,  and  the  grass  tufts  have  begun  to  show  among 
the  verdant  areas.  The  honeymoon  occupies  the  early 
part  of  April,  and  happy  scenes  of  courtship  engage  the 
hours  of  the  animated  creatures.  However,  many  of  the 
2 


18  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

larks  seem  to  be  mated  when  they  arrive  in  the  spring, 
and  their  love  affairs  seem  scarcely  less  numerous  in  the 
fall  than  in  the  vernal  season.  On  their  migration,  they 
travel  quite  frequently  in  couples,  though  solitary  birds 
and  trios  are  common;  and  hence  I  have  concluded  that 
many  of  these  birds  have  a  courting  and  mating  season  in 
the  fall  after  the  summer  moult.  In  their  gallantries  the 
harsh,  scolding  note  elsewhere  referred  to  is  particularly 
emphatic,  and  is  uttered  by  the  birds  on  all  occasions, 
notably  when  one  bird  is  in  pursuit  of  another. 

The  meadow  lark  nests  on  the  ground  in  dry  fields 
and  meadows.  The  nest  is  commonly  made  in  a  slight 
depression  at  the  base  of  a  tuft  of  grass,  which  may  serve 
as  a  partial  roof  for  the  habitation.  The  nest  itself  is  a 
snug  structure  of  dried  grass.  Nidification  begins  in  the 
latter  part  of  April,  and  generally  more  than  one  brood 
is  reared.  The  eggs  vary  in  number  from  four  to  six, 
though  complements  of  seven  have  been  reported.  They 
are  pure  white,  speckled  and  blotched  with  reddish  and 
purplish  brown.  An  average  egg  measures  1.10  long  by 
.80  wide,  in  inches.  One  bright  morning  in  the  latter 
part  of  April  I  found  two  nests  of  the  meadow  lark  in  a 
hayfield  containing  many  depressions  made  by  the  feet 
of  horses  and  cattle  in  wet  weather.  They  were  situated 
beside  tufts  of  green  grass,  which  helped  to  form  the 
partial  domes  sheltering  the  grassy  sitting-rooms.  They 
were  formed  externally  of  coarse  grass  into  cavities 
about  four  inches  in  diameter.  The  lining  was  fine  dried 
grass,  and  both  nests  were  so  artfully  sheltered  that  only 
by  looking  directly  into  the  entrance  could  the  bird-seeker 
discover  the  cozy  homes.  Once  I  found  a  nest  of  the  meadow 
lark  in  a  road,  not  more  than  ten  feet  from  the  wagon 
track,  in  an  alluring  tuft  of  grass.  The  meadow  lark 
seems  to  be  fond  of  the  meadows  and  unbroken  areas  in 
the  suburbs  of  towns  and  villages,  frequently  nesting 
within  a  few  steps  of  the  houses  in  suburban  districts,  and 
always  singing  within  sound  of  such  outlying  homes. 

About  the  1st  of  August  the  meadow  larks  become 
silent  and  more  retiring  in  their  habits,  losing  much  of 
their  former  animation  and  familiarity.  In  our  early 
August  rambles  over  the  meadows  we  frequently  miss  the 


Meadow  Lark.  19 

forms  and  voices  of  the  meadow  larks  for  whole  days. 
It  seems  that  they  hide  closely  in  the  grass  tufts  and 
other  convenient  shelters,  silent  in  the  great  midsummer 
transition  which  so  sensibly  affects  the  voices  of  the  birds. 
When  disturbed  in  their  seclusion  they  rise  silently  and 
flutter  away  for  a  distance  to  drop  into  their  coverts. 
From  the  middle  of  August  they  are  gregarious,  ten  to 
fifty  individuals  associating  in  a  meadow,  where  they  feed 
on  the  grasshoppers  abundant  at  that  time.  Through 
September  and  October  they  are  loudly  melodious  for 
about  two  hours  after  sunrise,  reminding  the  listener  of 
the  first  mornings  after  their  coming  in  spring.  They 
mate  frequently  at  this  season,  and  in  their  persistent 
gallantry  one  individual  can  be  observed  pursuing  another 
in  rapid  flight,  the  leader  dodging  upward  and  sidewise 
in  a  manner  quite  foreign  to  the  ordinary  deportment  of 
these  staid  birds,  until  both  dart  suddenly  into  the  grass, 
or  one  disappears  in  the  herbage  and  the  other  flies  to  a 
perch  on  the  hedge  or  fence.  About  the  1st  of  November 
they  leave  this  section,  retiring  to  their  winter  home 
farther  south. 

Few  of  oar  avian  friends,  either  of  the  meadow,  or 
bushes,  or  dooryard,  evince  such  strong  attachment  to 
Mother  Earth  as  our  sturdy  meadow  lark.  The  prairie 
horned  lark  will  frequently  tower  cloudward  for  hours  at 
a  time,  slighting  the  inviting  face  of  its  friend  and  pro- 
tector below ;  but  the  meadow  lark  only  mounts  to  the 
summits  of  the  trees  in  his  neighborhood,  trembling  un- 
easily on  his  perch  as  if  impelled  always  to  return  to  his 
natural  sphere.  The  chipping  sparrow  and  the  field 
sparrow,  other  so-called  "ground  birds,"  are  occasionally 
allured  by  convenient  situations  to  forsake  the  sheltering 
lap  of  earth  and  place  their  hairy  cots  in  bushes  and 
trees,  but  the  meadow  lark  never  loses  his  implicit  trust 
in  her  protecting  care,  and  only  in  her  grassy  nooks  does 
he  think  of  secreting  his  treasured  home.  On  the  bosom 
of  earth  he  crouches  yet  closer  to  pour  into  her  ear  his 
eloquent  plaint.  In  her  sheltering  arms  he  nestles  through 
the  shades  of  night,  cozily  enwrapped  in  a  favorite  tuft. 
In  her  lap  he  finds  the  morsels  that  satisfy  his  frugal 
wants  or  the  gratification  of  his  stronger  desires ;  indeed, 


20  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

it  seems  that,  like  the  fabled  wrestler  of  old,  his  every 
contact  with  earth  endues  him  with  fresh  animation. 

The  meadow  lark  belongs  to  a  proud  family,  being 
classed  with  the  Baltimore  oriole,  the  grackles,  the  bobo- 
link, and  other  distinguished  species.  Its  place  in  ornith- 
ology being  with  the  grackles  and  orioles,  it  is  thus  seen 
that  it  is  not  a  real  lark;  but  the  title  of  lark  will  doubt- 
less ever  be  applied  to  it.  It  is,  however,  in  no  way  un- 
worthy of  its  family,  either  in  attractive  plumage,  digni- 
fied manners,  or  melodious  voice.  Its  habit  corresponds 
very  closely  to  the  places  it  frequents,  its  upper  parts 
having  mingled  brown,  yellow,  and  other  colors  which 
mimic  the  dried  vegetation  of  the  meadows.  The  prin- 
cipal features  of  its  plumage  are  the  rich  yellow  of  its 
breast  and  under  parts,  and  the  crescent  of  jet  which 
ornaments  the  upper  portion  of  its  breast.  When  on  the 
ground  it  walks  with  all  the  dignity  of  the  bronzed 
grackle,  and  under  no  circumstances  does  it  commit  any 
action  that  will  besmirch  the  fair  name  it  has  ever  borne, 
for  no  shadow  of  suspicion  has  touched  its  character,  a 
fact  that  will  not  apply  to  the  grackle  and  others  of  its 
relatives.  Like  the  grackle,  it  takes  its  food  almost  ex- 
clusively from  the  ground.  In  fact,  it  serves  the  farmer 
more  effectively  than  any  other  species,  and  it  should 
therefore  receive  the  protection  and  regard  to  which  its- 
very  valuable  services  entitle  it.  Thoughtless  hunters  and 
boys  who  shoot  the  larks  for  mere  pastime  should  be 
promptly  ejected  from  the  premises  of  the  farmer  who 
knows  his  real  friends,  even  when  the  latter  are  only 
birds. 

Concerning  the  food  of  the  meadow  lark,  a  topic  of 
special  interest  to  agriculturists,  we  have  definite  informa- 
tion in  the  investigations  of  Prof.  S.  A.  Forbes,  reported 
in  the  transactions  of  the  Illinois  Horticultural  Society, 
1880.  In  the  conclusion  of  the  paper,  the  author  says 
that  we  must  admit  the  probable  eminent  usefulness  of 
this  bird.  Its  great  destruction  of  grasshoppers,  and  of 
cut- worms  and  other  caterpillars,  and  the  absence  of  all 
depredations  other  than  the  appropriation  of  scattered 
grains  of  corn,  taken  in  connection  with  the  fact  that  it 
eats  only  the  normal  average  of  predaceous  insects,  are 


Meadow  Lark.  21 

all  strong  indications  of  valuable  services  rendered,  with 
unusually  few  drawbacks.  The  Year  Book  of  the  U.  S. 
Department  of  Agriculture,  1895,  contains  a  valuable 
article  upon  the  economic  relations  of  the  meadow  lark, 
by  Prof.  F.  E.  L.  Beal,  in  which  the  author  states  that  this 
species  is  one  of  the  most  useful  allies  to  agriculture, 
standing  almost  without  a  peer  as  a  destroyer  of  noxious 
insects. 


BOBOLINK. 

Our  meadow  rambles  in  May  are  enlivened  by  the 
voices  of  more  songsters  than  we  heard  in  the  preceding 
month,  and  now  the  bobolinks  jingle  their  merry  notes 
and  especially  engage  our  attention.  Swinging  on  the 
heads  and  spikes  of  the  meadow  weeds,  or  sitting  in  the 
hedges  or  on  the  ground,  now  flying  from  the  earth  to 
weed-top  or  hedge,  or  chasing  one  another  in  sportive 
gallantry,  the  restless  musicians  pour  forth  a  stream  of 
tinkling,  bubbling  melody.  At  our  approach  they  arise 
from  the  grass  or  weed-tops,  and  uttering  their  hurried, 
jingling  notes,  they  alight  in  the  hedge,  keeping  together, 
and  all  singing  earnestly,  until,  as  though  by  wonted 
signal  or  arrangement,  the  music  ceases  abruptly  and 
silence  ensues,  soon  to  be  broken  by  a  more  forcible  out- 
burst from  every  throat.  The  males  are  chiefly  notice- 
able, and  they  are  now  showily  bedecked  in  their  vernal 
color  of  black,  ornamented  about  the  neck  and  shoulders 
with  buffy  yellow.  The  females  keep  themselves  more 
hidden  among  the  higher  grass,  perhaps  somewhat 
ashamed  of  their  brown  and  duller  yellow  garments  in 
contrast  to  the  gay  robes  of  their  sportive  escorts.  This 
is  the  season  of  courtship  and  song,  of  "  mad  music  "  and 
impassioned  antics,  of  revelings  unabated  by  thoughts  of 
household  cares  and  life's  sterner  duties,  the  time  when 
Robert  O'Lincoln  affects  only  the  dashing  manners  of  a 
gay  and  thoughtless  cavalier. 

No  North  American  bird  has  aroused  more  sentiment 
than  the  bobolink,  nor  has  any  species  received  more 
attention  in  the  study  of  its  habits.  Its  exuberant  volu- 


22  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

bility  of  song  and  its  rollicking  gayety  of  spirit  have  in- 
spired the  poet  to  weave  into  verse  the  fanciful  rhythm 
of  its  jingling  notes.  Its  history  has  been  written  with 
more  care  than  the  lives  of  many  of  our  great  men,  and 
its  place  in  our  literature  has  been  made  secure  by  the 
classic  biography  of  the  species  penned  by  Washington 
Irving.  However,  it  is  probable  that  there  are  more 
persons  who  know  about  the  bobolink  than  who  know 
the  bird  from  a  personal  observation  of  its  appearance 
and  manners.  It  is  easily  identified,  for  no  other  bird  is 
similarly  marked,  and  no  other  bird  affects  the  same 
hilarity  of  manner  or  has  the  same  merry  jingle  of  song. 
The  person  who  has  read  accurate  accounts  of  its  habits 
and  has  formed  an  intelligent  idea  of  its  eccentric  vocal- 
ism  is  almost  certain  to  identify  the  bobolink  when  the 
first  opportunity  presents  itself.  In  my  opinion  many  of 
the  praises  sung  of  the  bobolink  are  undeserved,  and  fre- 
quently the  descriptions  of  its  manners  and  song  are 
somewhat  exaggerated.  One  writer,  whose  interesting 
volume  of  bird  life  lies  before  me,  asserts  that  the  bobo- 
link is  the  finest  bird  of  our  fields  and  meadows,  an  esti- 
mation of  the  bird  in  its  eastern  habitat  which  may  not 
be  incorrect.  Judged  by  its  manners  in  this  section, 
however,  it  is  not  superior  to  the  horned  lark  that  sits 
on  the  ground  near  it  and  lisps  its  ditty,  nor  to  the 
Dickcissel  that  sings  persistently  farther  along  the  hedge- 
row, nor  does  it  compare  favorably  with  the  meadow  lark 
in  sweetness  of  song  or  beauty  of  color.  Its  unusual  vi- 
vacity of  spirit  in  the  mating  season  and  the  tinkling 
rhythm  of  its  notes  have  served  chiefly  to  enhance  the 
popularity  of  the  bobolink,  for  a  careful  comparison  of  its 
qualities  and  characteristics  with  those  of  some  of  its  fel- 
lows would  surely  lessen  the  distance  which  now  ap- 
parently intervenes  between  the  station  of  the  bobolink  in 
literature  and  those  of  other  species  of  merit  now  scarcely 
recognized. 

As  a  species,  the  bobolink  is  quite  generally  distributed 
throughout  eastern  North  America,  ranging  northward  to 
the  Saskatchewan  Eiver,  and  westward  to  the  Eocky 
Mountains,  breeding  throughout  its  given  habitat.  The 
winter  home  of  the  species  includes  the  region  from  Mex- 


Bobolink.  23 

ico  to  the  Argentine  Eepublic  and  Paraguay.  Traveling 
northward,  the  earliest  migrants  reach  central  Illinois  in 
the  first  week  of  May,  the  day  varying  from  the  first  to 
the  eighth  of  the  month.  They  journey  chiefly  by  way  of 
the  meadows  and  hedges,  preferring  the  borders  to  the 
more  open  parts  of  the  fields  and  pastures.  They  advance 
rather  leisurely  on  their  migrations,  and  sometimes  spend 
several  weeks  in  passing  this  locality.  A  small  troop  may 
halt  in  a  particular  low  meadow  or  fancied  piece  of  hedge, 
and  there  dally  for  several  days  before  they  disappear. 
Often,  however,  they  are  more  hurried,  and  remain  only 
long  enough  to  announce  their  presence  and  to  refresh 
themselves  ere  they  attempt  the  succeeding  stages  of  their 
journey.  Only  a  few  pairs  remain  to  rear  their  broods  in 
this  section  of  central  Illinois. 

In  the  spring  migrations  of  many  of  our  common  birds 
it  is  customary  for  the  males  to  precede  the  females,  the 
latter  journeying  more  slowly,  and  reaching  their  destina- 
tion after  a  convenient  period.  Some  of  the  birds  travel 
northward  in  mated  pairs.  In  the  case  of  the  bobolink, 
however,  it  is  noticeable  that  in  this  locality  the  males  do 
not  travel  entirely  alone,  but  usually  one  female  is  escorted 
by  five  or  six  males,  who  vie  with  one  another  in  so- 
liciting the  attention  and  favor  of  the  lady.  When  she 
chooses  to  sit  on  the  ground,  they  generally  alight  on  the 
ground  also,  though  not  all  near  her;  and  if  one  of  the 
cavaliers  begins  his  madrigals,  another  will  add  his  voice, 
and  thus  one  by  one  all  will  take  part  in  the  performance. 
The  mingling  of  their  voices  produces  a  curiously  fanciful 
medley;  and  it  is  remarkable  that  while  their  strains 
are  in  various  keys,  they  are  commonly  in  perfect  har- 
mony, forming  a  real  bird  orchestra.  Unlike  the  begin- 
ning of  their  overture,  they  end  their  performance  by  all 
ceasing  abruptly,  as  though  by  word  or  signal.  A  short 
period  of  silence  follows,  until  one  of  the  impatient  trou- 
badours begins  softly,  after  which  the  previous  per- 
formance is  re-enacted. 

Frequently  the  concert  is  begun  by  the  action  of  one  of 
the  birds  as  he  rises  from  his  place  and  flutters  into  the 
air,  pouring  forth  his  jingle  while  rising  to  a  perch  atop  of 
a  weed-stalk,  or  on  the  hedge.  Should  the  somber-colored 


24  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

female  alight  in  the  hedge  or  in  a  tree,  the  gallants  in  her 
train  are  likely  to  follow  her  and  redouble  their  efforts  to 
please  her  with  their  voluble  strains.  They  do  not  ob- 
trude their  company  upon  her  with  unbecoming  per- 
sistence at  this  time,  however,  and  she  appears  somewhat 
indifferent  to  their  gallant  behavior ;  for  she  is,  perhaps, 
more  interested  in  their  safeai-rival  at  the  end  of  the  long 
journey.  In  the  evident  absence  of  the  ardor  noticeable 
in  the  advances  of  the  males  several  weeks  later,  we  may 
fancy  that  they  make  themselves  agreeable  to  the  lady 
because  she  happens  to  be  their  traveling  companion,  and 
they  are  in  her  escort  to  her  summer  home. 

In  the  "  History  of  North  American  Birds,"  the  New 
England  habits  of  the  bobolink  are  thus  described  by  Dr. 
Brewer :  "  When  they  first  appear,  usually  after  the 
middle  of  May,  they  are  in  small  parties,  composed  of 
either  sex,  absorbed  in  their  courtships,  and  overflowing 
with  song.  When  two  or  three  male  bobolinks,  decked 
out  in  their  gayest  spring  apparel,  are  paying  their  at- 
tentions to  the  same  drab-colored  female,  contrasting  so 
strikingly  in  her  sober  brown  dress,  their  performances 
are  quite  entertaining,  each  male  endeavoring  to  out-sing 
the  other.  The  female  appears  coy  and  retiring,  keeping 
closely  to  the  ground,  but  always  attended  by  several 
aspirants  for  her  affection.  After  a  contest,  often  quite 
exciting,  the  rivalries  are  adjusted,  the  rejected  suitors  are 
driven  off  by  their  more  fortunate  competitor,  and  the 
happy  pair  begin  to  put  in  order  a  new  home.  It  is  in 
their  love-quarrels  that  their  song  appears  to  the  greatest 
advantage.  They  pour  out  incessantly  their  strains  of 
quaint  but  charming  music,  now  on  the  top  of  a  fence,  a 
low  bush,  or  the  swaying  stalk  of  a  plant  that  bends  with 
their  weight.  The  great  length  of  their  song,  the  immense 
number  of  short  and  variable  notes  of  which  it  is  com- 
posed, the  volubility  and  confused  rapidity  with  which 
they  are  poured  forth,  the  eccentric  breaks,  in  the  midst 
of  which  we  detect  the  words 'bob-o-link'  so  distinctly 
enunciated,  unite  to  form  a  general  result  to  which  we 
can  find  no  parallel  in  any  of  the  musical  performances  of 
our  other  song-birds." 

The  bobolink  nests  in  this  latitude  soon  after  the  middle 


Bobolink.  25 

of  Ma}~.  It  invariably  places  its  nest  on  the  ground,  most 
frequently  in  a  natural  depression  in  the  meadow  soil,  in 
a  spot  surrounded  by  tall  grass,  or  else  out  in  the  open 
areas,  where  there  is  nothing  to  indicate  the  presence  of  a 
birdland  home.  Lowell's  poetical  mention  of  "tussocks 
that  house  blithe  Bob  O'Lincoln  "  loses  much  of  its  force 
to  one  who  scarcely  ever  finds  the  nest  ensconced  in  a 
grass  tuft.  It  loves  to  nest  in  the  clover,  especially  if 
there  are  numerous  weed-stalks  on  which  the  devoted  male 
can  swing  while  he  pours  forth  his  gushing  jingle  to  cheer 
the  dull  life  of  his  mate,  brooding  over  her  charge  hidden 
in  the  herbage.  There  are  few  birds  that  secrete  their 
homes  as  successfully  as  the  bobolink,  or  that  employ 
more  artifice  in  approaching  and  leaving  the  spot.  The 
actions  of  the  female  afford  no  real  clue  to  the  immediate 
site  of  the  nest.  She  has  a  habit  of  running  in  the  grass 
for  a  distance  when  she  leaves  her  home,  and  in  returning 
to  it  she  alights  some  distance  from  it,  and  approaches  it 
stealthily  in  the  grass.  When  startled  from  the  nest,  she 
flutters  upward  for  a  moment,  and  then,  dropping  back 
into  the  grass,  she  runs  swiftly  from  the  spot,  and  arises 
in  flight  at  a  point  safely  removed  from  the  premises. 

In  an  article  entitled  "Dragging  for  Bobolinks,"  pub- 
lished in  the  Oologist  for  August,  1895,  the  author,  Kev. 
B.  P.  Peabody,  thus  interestingly  relates  his  experience  in 
finding  the  nests  of  this  species:  "One  end  of  the  rope  is 
tightly  fastened  to  a  slender  bunch  of  grass  (whence  a 
stout  pull  may  dislodge  it).  I  set  about  uncoiling  it.  A 
brown  bird  fluttered  up  before  me,  and  at  my  feet,  em- 
bowered in  a  slight  grass  nest  that  crests  a  bog,  nestles  a 
newly  fledged  song  sparrow,  while  beside  it  lies  the  sempi- 
ternal cow  bird's  egg.  How  eagerly  I  beat  the  first  circle, 
drinking  in  great  draughts  of  morning  air !  But  as  I  close 
the  circle,  loose  my  line,  tie  again,  and  circle  again  and 
yet  again,  my  ardor  begins  to  dampen,  though  many  a  male 
bobolink  floats  and  flutters  near,  laughing  at  me.  But  the 
line  of  circles  has  begun  to  reach  out  well  into  the  meadow. 
No  birds  rise,  but  new  beauties  lie  at  my  feet.  .  .  . 
Though  not  a  botanist,  observe  the  flowers  I  must;  for  any 
careless  step,  taken  while  the  eye  eagerly  follows  the  line, 
sends  one  leg  plunging  down  into  unmeasured  depths  of 


26  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

cold,  black  mire.  Just  as  I  rise  ruefully  from  such  a 
plight,  a  female  bobolink  bolts  up  from  the  grass,  half- 
way along  the  line,  clutches  a  blade  of  grass,  looks  back  an 
instant  wonderingly,  then  dives  quickly  into  the  grassy 
maze,  and  no  amount  of  beating  can  flush  her.  A  bit  of 
white  rag  is  hastily  tied  to  the  grass  near  where  she  rose, 
and  the  careful  search  begins.  A  dozen  square  yards  are 
slowly  examined,  foot  by  foot,  but  vainly;  when  a  last 
faint-hearted,  sweeping  glance  reveals  the  nest,  half 
crushed  by  my  feet,  well  hidden  in  a  little  grassy  bog.  It 
is  naught  but  a  dainty,  spirally-wrought  cup  of  slender 
grasses,  flush  with  the  sphagnum  tops,  but  it  holds  five 
eggs,  quite  fresh,  of  the  clear-grounded,  dark-blotched 
type." 

The  nest  of  the  bobolink  is  constructed  without  regard 
to  elegance,  but  rather  with  a  view  to  concealment,  and  in 
the  simplest  manner  to  serve  its  purpose.  The  natural  de- 
pression chosen,  or  the  cavity  formed  by  the  foot  of  a 
horee  or  a  cow  in  wet  seasons,  is  lined  with  dried  grasses, 
which  are  coiled  into  a  circular  cup.  Dried  stems  of 
weeds  add  to  the  mimicry  of  the  nest.  Furthermore,  the 
eggs  have  a  protective  coloration,  being  a  dingy  or  gray- 
ish white,  or  bluish  gray,  varying  into  drab,  olive,  and 
other  similar  hues,  and  thus  showing  a  wonderful  variation 
in  color  and  markings.  The  edges  of  the  markings  appear 
to  be  somewhat  blurred,  thus  forming  a  blending  of  colors 
which  enhances  the  safety  of  the  eggs  from  discovery  by 
prying  eyes.  An  average  egg  is  .85  by  .65  of  an  inch  in 
length  and  breadth.  The  complement  consists  of  four  or 
five  eggs,  and  six  or  seven  are  not  unusual. 

With  the  advance  of  the  breeding  season  the  songs  of 
the  gay  bobolinks  are  heard  less  frequently,  and  the  de- 
mure, sobered  manners  of  the  males,  patiently  caring  for 
their  families,  are  quite  in  contrast  to  their  wanton  habits 
in  the  earlier  season.  The  poet  is  happily  faithful  to  his 
muse  and  to  nature  in  this  picture  of  EobertO'  Lincoln  as 
a  devoted  husband  and  father.  He  says, 

"  *    *    *    that  devil-may-care,  the  bobolink, 
Remembering  duty,  in  mid-quavers  stops 
Just  ere  he  sweeps  o'er  rapture's  tremulous  brink, 
And  'twixt  the  winrows  most  demurely  drops, 
A  decorous  bird  of  business" — 


Bobolink.  27 

a  poetical  portrait  satisfactory  to  the  most  critical  bird- 
lover.  The  vernal  revels  are  ended  ;  the  gay  dress  of  the 
gallant  cavalier  is  replaced  by  a  garb  suitable  to  the 
"farmer  'mid  his  crops,"  resembling  the  constant  dress  of 
the  female;  and  life  becomes  plebeian  and  prosaic  in  the 
absence  of  song,  color,  and  social  reveling.  The  bobolinks 
do  not  tarry  in  their  summer  homes  after  their  broods  are 
reared,  but,  like  the  grackles,  cow  birds,  and  others  of  their 
family,  they  form  large  flocks,  and  congregate  where  their 
food  is  found  in  greatest  abundance.  Early  in  August 
they  leave  this  region,  simultaneously  with  the  Baltimore 
oriole,  Dickcissel,  and  other  tender  species.  Their  fall 
migration  from  Illinois  is  seldom  noticed  except  as  their 
absence  is  remarked ;  for  their  appearance  is  so  altered, 
and  their  behavior  so  different,  that  persons  generally  do 
not  recognize  the  birds  whose  arrival  was  announced  by 
impassioned  music  and  wanton  gayety.  Instead  of  dally- 
ing along  the  road,  and  alighting  here  and  there  as  fancy 
leads  them,  they  fly  high  on  their  late  fall  migrations, 
with  the  undulating  movements  of  the  grackles  and  cow- 
birds. 

In  the  Eastern  States  the  bobolinks  resort  to  the  swamps 
and  marshes  after  the  nesting  season,  to  feed  on  the 
seeds  of  the  sedges  and  grasses.  Their  manners  then  are 
very  similar  to  those  of  the  grackles,  which  frequent  the 
swamps  in  dense  flocks  in  the  fall.  As  the  voracious  bobo- 
links feed  on  the  seeds  of  the  swamp  grasses,  they  grow 
plump  and  fat,  and  are  killed  in  numbers  by  market 
hunters  for  public  and  private  tables,  being  then  known 
as  "  reed  birds."  Continuing  their  southward  movements, 
they  Invade  the  rice-fields  of  the  Southern  States,  and  are 
then  most  destructive  to  the  planters'  interests,  though 
they  are  there  game  for  the  gunners,  and  served  on  the 
tables  of  hotels  and  restaurants.  The  change  in  their  food 
and  surroundings  seems  to  give  the  bobolinks  new  char- 
acteristics, and  in  their  Southern  environments  they  re- 
ceive the  popular  name  of  "  rice-birds." 

The  bobolinks  have  no  recorded  fall  history  in  Illinois. 
They  are  not  in  demand  to  supply  the  tables  of  our  West- 
ern gourmands,  and  therefore  they  are  not  especially 
sought  in  the  fall  season.  The  individuals  that  have  re- 


28  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

sided  among  us  in  the  breeding  period  hurry  out  of  the 
State,  and  it  is  probable  that  they  take  a  more  easterly 
route  on  their  return  to  their  winter  homes,  joining  their 
forces  with  the  ranks  which  have  formed  toward  the  east- 
ern borders  of  the  Great  Lakes.  Eastern  observers  re- 
port that  unusually  heavy  flocks  of  these  birds  congregate 
in  the  swamps  of  the  Middle  Atlantic  States,  and  Western 
observers  agree  in  reporting  the  absence  of  the  bobolinks 
along  the  line  of  the  spring  migrations.  Diligent  ob- 
servation may  establish  the  truth  of  our  present  theory 
that  our  summer  bobolinks  of  Central  and  Northern 
Illinois  pass  across  Indiana  and  along  the  southern  shore 
of  Lake  Erie,  reach  the  swamps  of  the  Eastern  seaboard 
by  way  of  New  York  and  Pennsylvania,  and  thence  move 
southward  leisurely  in  company  with  the  regular  Eastern 
migrants. 


DICKCISSEL. 

Among  the  musicians  whose  voices  lend  spirit  and  har- 
mony to  the  otherwise  dull  life  of  the  meadows,  none  is 
better  known  or  more  persistent  in  the  production  of 
melody  than  Dickcissel.  However,  he  may  not  be  recog- 
nized readily  by  his  numerous  friends  under  the  given 
title,  for  his  book  name  is  seldom  used  by  those  who  see 
and  hear  him  at  his  best.  Ho  is  commonly  regarded  as  a 
lark,  being  sometimes  called  the  "little  field  lark"  in  dis- 
tinction from  the  meadow  lark,  but  neither  of  these  birds 
is  closely  related  to  the  larks.  Dickcissel  is  really  a  finch, 
or  bunting,  belonging  to  the  great  family  Fringillidce, 
while  the  meadow  lark  is  a  member  of  the  royal  family 
Icteridce.  The  bright  yellow  of  his  breast  and  the  black 
spot  on  his  throat  have  been  supposed  to  show  his  rela- 
tionship further  to  the  meadow  lark,  which  has  similar 
markings,  and  therefore  Dickcissel  is  popularly  known  as 
the  "  little  meadow  lark."  Formerly  he  received  a  book 
name  suggested  by  the  distinctive  markings  mentioned, 
and  was  then  the  black-throated  bunting;  but  so  few 
knew  him  by  that  title  and  so  many  of  his  friends  were 
familiar  with  his  earnest  exhortation,  that  he  was  given 


Dickcissel.  29 

the  name  sounded  in  the  notes  ho  utters,  and  is  now 
Dickcissel.  Among  the  boys  of  the  farm  he  has  other 
local  and  familiar  titles,  for  his  chant  is  ever  obtrusive  as 
it  rises  from  hedges,  bushes,  and  tops  of  meadow  weeds, 
and  persons  who  dwell  in  rural  localities  have  ample  op- 
portunity to  learn  something  of  his  evident  traits  and 
characteristics. 

The  summer  home  of  Dickcissel  is  eastern  United 
States,  extending  northward  to  southern  New  England 
arid  Ontario,  and  the  States  bordering  the  great  lakes. 
He  ranges  westward  to  the  edge  of  the  great  plains,  fre- 
quently to  southeastern  United  States  on  the  migration. 
His  winter  home  is  in  tropical  regions,  extending  as  far 
south  as  northern  South  America.  This  bird  is  said  to 
breed  chiefly  north  of  the  Southern  States.  Dickcissel  is 
not  so  hardy  as  most  of  the  sparrows  and  some  other 
members  of  his  family,  for  he  seldom  reaches  our  latitude 
before  the  last  week  of  April.  He  comes  with  the  Bal- 
timore oriole,  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak,  the  warbling 
vireo,  and  other  birds  which  do  not  appear  until  the 
trees  are  unfolding  their  buds  and  expanding  their  blos- 
soms. Dickcissel,  however,  cares  little  for  the  buds  and 
blossoms,  for  he  is  not  a  frequenter  of  the  trees  except 
such  as  border  the  meadows  and  cornfields;  and  when  he 
reaches  our  locality  at  the  close  of  his  long  journey  from 
the  tropics,  he  finds  the  hedges  bare  or  only  beginning  to 
don  their  verdure.  Apparently  enjoying  the  change  from 
tropical  luxuriance  to  the  northern  nakedness  of  the 
hedges,  and  knowing  that  the  rapidly  unfolding  beauty 
of  the  vegetation  will  soon  compensate  him  for  the  dis- 
comforts of  travel,  he  mounts  to  his  favorite  perch  and 
immediately  voices  his  satisfaction  with  his  lot,  antici- 
pating a  season  of  continuous  melody  and  content. 

The  Dickcissels  show  a  decided  preference  for  mead- 
ows, cornfields,  and  unbroken  prairie;  and  along  the 
hedges  and  fences  bordering  such  resorts  they  alight  ab- 
ruptly after  their  short  flights  from  the  ground,  and 
chant  their  accustomed  strains  until  they  are  disturbed  or 
impulse  leads  them  to  flit  farther  along  the  hedge  or  back 
into  the  meadow  grass.  Clover  fields  have  a  great  attrac- 
tion for  them,  and  in  the  vicinity  of  clover  patches  they 


30  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

seem  most  numerous  and  vivacious,  though  along  the 
margins  of  fields  of  wheat,  oats,  and  other  grains  their 
voices  are  commonly  heard.  Travelers  along  the  rural 
roads  have  opportunities  to  learn  something  of  the  ap- 
pearance and  manners  of  the  Dickcissels.  As  we  pass 
them  perched  in  the  hedges  or  near  the  summits  of  low 
trees  along  the  roadside,  or  clinging  to  the  top  of  a  con- 
venient upright  rail  of  the  fence,  we  note  their  decided 
resemblance  to  the  meadow  larks,  though  they  are  much 
smaller,  an  average  specimen  being  about  the  size  of  the 
bluebird.  In  our  cursory  examination  of  the  individuals 
we  thus  meet,  we  observe  that  the  prevailing  colors  of 
the  upper  parts  are  yellowish  brown.  The  males  have 
bright  yellow  breasts  and  an  ornamental  black  patch  on 
their  throats,  with  dingy  white  under  parts.  The  females 
are  without  the  yellow  breasts  and  the  black  throat  patch, 
having  the  lower  parts  dusky  white  streaked  with  darker 
colors.  The  movements  of  these  birds  on  the  ground  are 
seldom  observed,  though  they  often  flit  from  higher  sit- 
uations to  the  grass,  and  alight  on  the  low  weed  top< 
and  tussocks  to  utter  their  songs.  However,  they  do  not 
walk  about  on  the  bare  ground  like  the  meadow  larks, 
but  rather  hide  in  the  grass  like  the  sparrows. 

The  vocal  efforts  of  the  Dickcissels  have  been  charac- 
terized as  monotonous;  yet  if  they  were  less  persistent 
vocalists,  their  performances  would  doubtless  seem  less 
uniform  and  tiresome.  Their  singing  has  also  been  de- 
scribed as  wholly  lacking  in  melody,  but  in  my  opinion 
it  is  equally  meritorious  with  the  efforts  of  some  bird 
musicians  generally  received  with  open  favor.  There  is 
a  moderate  degree  of  variation  in  the  musical  ability  of 
different  individuals,  but  the  ordinary  song  has  been  well 
interpreted  in  the  rendition,  "See,  see — Dick,  Dick,cissel, 
cissel."  It  is  executed  in  a  manner  very  similar  to  the 
performance  of  the  song  sparrow,  the  opening  syllables 
being  pronounced  slowly  and  loudly,  the  remainder  being 
more  hurried  and  in  gradually  ascending  pitch.  At  any 
hour  of  the  day,  even  in  the  greatest  heat  of  noonday, 
the  voices  of  the  Dickcissels  can  be  heard,  and  frequently 
a  number  are  within  hearing,  as  the  birds  are  perched  on 
branches  of  convenient  hedge  trees,  or  on  fence  stakes,  or 


Dickcissel.  31 

the  bending  stems  of  the  meadow  weeds.  When  the 
cares  of  family  are  increasing,  the  voices  of  the  Dickcis- 
sels  are  at  their  best,  and  in  the  vicinity  of  their  nests 
they  chant  with  most  persistency. 

There  are  only  a  few  birds  whose  joy  in  their  homes, 
embowered  among  the  adjacent  foliage,  overflows  while 
they  are  almost  on  the  threshold  of  the  sacred  spot.  The 
soul  of  the  little  warbling  vireo  is  so  full  of  music  that  it 
can  sing  while  sitting  on  its  nest  brooding  its  rose-tinted 
beauties.  The  voluble  house  wren,  after  a  visit  to  its 
mate  tucked  away  in  its  feathery  bed  in  a  crevice,  can 
scarcely  repress  its  expressions  of  joy  until  it  has  whirred 
away  from  the  tiny  entrance.  The  cardinal  frequently 
whistles  the  most  gaily  while  seated  in  the  summit  of  the 
bush  which  shelters  his  mate  on  her  nest.  It  is  thus 
with  Dickcissel ;  for  though  his  ditties  are  not  always 
eloquent  to  us,  he  is  brave  in  proclaiming  his  happiness 
near  the  fountain  of  his  inspiration.  While  his  gentle 
mistress  patiently  attends  to  her  household  in  some  low 
bush  or  tussock  near  the  hedge,  Dick  flutters  from  perch 
to  perch  in  the  immediate  vicinity  and  voices  his  love  and 
devotion.  Once  I  flushed  a  female  from  a  nest  in  the  top 
of  an  elm  bush  along  a  railroad  while  Dick  was  proclaim- 
ing his  name  from  the  top  of  a  hedge  within  twenty  feet 
of  the  site.  Even  while  she  was  chirping  anxiously 
about  the  spot,  apprehending  that  her  home  might  be 
harried  by  ruthless  visitors,  he  was  brave  and  hopeful, 
and  tried  to  sustain  her  anxious  mind  by  ringing  forth 
his  cheerful  exclamations.  It  is  a  pity  that  we  are  not 
always  thus  hopeful  and  buoyant  in  the  face  of  impend- 
ing misfortune. 

Ordinarily  the  nests  of  the  Dickcissels  are  not  begun 
before  the  first  of  June,  but  in  advanced  seasons  the  nests 
are  made  and  the  eggs  deposited  before  the  end  of  May. 
Nests  with  fresh  eggs  can  be  found  through  June  and 
early  July,  though  it  is  perhaps  the  rule  that  only  one 
brood  is  reared,  the  later  attempts  at  nidification  follow- 
ing the  destruction  of  earlier  nests.  A  most  common  site 
for  the  nest  is  in  the  base  of  a  tussock  in  a  hay  field. 
The  habitation  is  frequently  situated  in  a  low  bush  along 
hedges,  among  stems  near  the  middle  of  the  bush.  Other 


32  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

nests  are  built  higher  in  bushes  and  dwarf  trees.  I  have 
found  them  in  hedges  as  high  as  eight  feet  from  the 
ground. 

Do  the  birds  really  profit  by  their  unfortunate  experi- 
ences? Many  of  the  birds  that  nest  on  the  ground  un- 
dergo great  misfortunes  from  the  plow  and  the  mower. 
The  prairie  horned  larks  usually  begin  to  nest  in  this 
locality  before  the  spring  plowing  has  commenced,  and 
many  homes  of  these  birds  are  annually  destroyed  in  the 
breaking  of  the  ground.  Later  the  larks  choose  sites  at 
the  bases  of  the  young  corn,  and  the  cultivator  comes 
along  and  brings  disaster  to  the  new  establishments. 
Many  broods  of  the  prairie  chicken  are  thus  cut  off  in 
their  embryonic  stage  by  the  plow.  The  time  of  greatest 
loss  to  the  Dickcissels  is  when  the  clover  is  cut  for  the 
first  crop,  the  mower  uncovering  many  a  cozy  and  safely- 
hidden  home.  When  the  time  for  cutting  the  clover  is 
at  hand,  however,  if  a  new  nest  is  to  be  made  by  a  pair 
of  Dickcissels,  they  sometimes  choose  a  retreat  in  the 
drooping  branches  of  an  untrimmed  hedge  bordering  a 
field,  and  establish  their  new  home  on  the  horizontal, 
over-arching  boughs.  Thus  their  habitation  is  secure 
when  the  mower  unroofs  the  homes  of  their  neighbors. 
These  higher  nests  of  Dickcissel  are  usually  better  speci- 
mens of  architecture  than  those  on  the  ground.  They 
are  more  nearly  spherical,  and  are  generally  well  woven 
and  evenly  rounded,  since  they  are  often  in  situations 
where  they  are  not  held  in  shape  by  surrounding  stems. 
Some  of  these  late  structures  are  in  form  not  unlike  the 
nests  of  the  orchard  oriole. 

The  nest  is  made  externally  of  coarse,  dried  weed 
stems,  corn  husks,  and  strips  of  bark,  having  in  most  in- 
stances a  middle  wall  of  finer  gi-ass  stems.  It  is  lined 
with  fine  dried  grass,  sometimes  with  rootlets  and  horse- 
hair. I  have  found  specimens  of  which  the  entire  ex- 
ternal layer  was  composed  of  peppergrass.  The  nest  is 
comparatively  large,  but  is  generally  compact,  and  hence 
does  not  readily  fall  apart.  The  cavity  averages  more 
than  two  inches  across  its  top,  and  is  two  inches  deep. 
The  nest  is  commonly  well  screened  from  view  by  stems 
and  foliage,  and  is  oftener  passed  than  seen  by  untrained 


Dickcissel.  33 

bird-seekers.  The  eggs  are  four  or  five  in  first  comple- 
ments and  three  or  four  in  late  sets,  for  I  have  found  as 
many  incubated  complements  of  three  eggs  as  four  in 
July  nesting.  They  resemble  the  eggs  of  the  bluebird 
so  closely  that  I  can  perceive  no  difference.  Their  aver- 
age size  is  .80  by  .60  of  an  inch. 

A  feature  to  be  remarked  in  the  habits  of  the  Dickcis- 
sels  is  the  abrupt  change  of  manners,  after  their  broods 
are  reared,  from  their  former  life  of  activity  and  ener- 
getic singing  to  a  period  of  close  seclusion  and  almost  ab- 
solute silence.  This  transition  from  song  to  silence  takes 
place  with  the  individuals  when  the  yellow  mouths  of  the 
nestlings  transform  the  eager  songs  of  the  males  into  anx- 
ious chirps  for  the  safety  and  comfort  of  their  offspring. 
The  sharp  chirps  of  the  parent  birds,  supplying  the  hun- 
gry demands  of  their  younglings,  are  the  only  notes 
heard,  soon  to  be  supplanted  by  the  sharper  cries  of  the 
fledgelings  after  they  leave  the  nests  and  sit  in  the  hedges 
and  on  grass  tufts  calling  loudly  for  immediate  attention. 
The  young,  however,  soon  learn  to  make  their  own  liv- 
ing, and  then  the  family  disappears.  I  believe  that  the 
young  males  sometimes  attempt  to  sing  before  they  leave 
the  localities  where  they  are  reared,  for  on  several  occa- 
sions I  have  heard  a  queer  song  of  the  species,  which  I 
immediately  decided  to  be  the  performance  of  a  young' 
male  of  the  year.  This  premature  song  usually  begins 
with  several  sharp  chirps,  and  ends  with  a  squeaky  re- 
semblance to  the  "  cisse.l,  cisscl  "  part.  Its  imperfection 
is  so  manifest  that  it  can  not  be  ascribed  to  a  practiced 
vocalist  of  the  earlier  season. 

The  change  of  habits  of  the  Dickcissels  is  almost  sim- 
ultaneous with  the  disappearance  of  the  orioles,  who  ab- 
ruptly depart  from  the  scenes  of  their  former  vivacity 
and  melody.  The  Dickcissels,  however,  remain  in  the 
neighborhood  after  they  become  silent,  resorting  to  the 
thick  foliage  of  the  hedges  and  to  patches  of  tangled 
weeds.  As  we  ramble  along  the  hedges  in  August,  we 
startle  them  out  and  they  dart  ahead  of  us  in  their  slightly 
undulating,  sparrow-like  flight,  soon  turning  hastily  into 
the  hedge  or  dropping  into  the  weeds,  which  form  a  close 
covert  for  their  movements.  "When  there  are  wild  black- 
3 


34  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

berry  bushes  growing  along  the  hedge,  the  birds  can  be 
found  among  them  feeding  on  the  wild  fruit,  in  company 
with  skulking  brown  thrashers  and  catbirds.  They  are 
regular  seed-eaters,  and  in  the  late  summer  depend  chiefly 
on  the  seeds  that  fall  from  the  weeds  and  the  wild  berries 
growing  near  their  coverts.  In  the  first  part  of  the  sea- 
son they  feed  on  the  early  seeds,  and  are  more  insectiv- 
orous, the  insect  elements  of  their  food  increasing  when 
the  nestlings  demand  their  care,  as  the  young  subsist 
almost  exclusively  on  insects  and  larvae.  In  the  Trans- 
actions of  the  Illinois  Horticultural  Society,  1876,  Prof. 
S.  A.  Forbes  reports  that  his  investigations  show  that  68 
per  cent,  of  the  food  of  the  Dickcissels  renders  them  ben- 
eficial to  horticulture,  7  per  cent,  injurious,  and  25  per 
cent,  neutral,  thus  leaving  a  large  balance  in  favor  of  our 
summer  friends.  The  boys  of  the  farm  should  spare  their 
homes  whenever  possible. 

The  Dickcissels  leave  us  in  the  latter  part  of  August, 
departing  silently  and  unobserved  from  the  localities  in 
which  they  appeared  at  the  opening  of  the  season  with 
voices  attuned  to  the  increasing  chorus  of  nature,  having 
spent  less  than  three  months  with  us  in  song  and  glad- 
ness, and  less  than  four  months  in  their  Northern  sum- 
mer home.  It  is  a  wonderful  fact  that  the  amatory  and 
maternal  instincts  of  most  birds  impel  them  to  journey 
hundreds  of  miles  to  temporary  homes  where  they  sojourn 
less  than  half  a  year,  exhibiting  for  only  a  few  weeks  a 
spirit  of  happy  content.  With  the  exception  of  the  alder 
flycatcher  and  Bell's  vireo,  the  Dickcissels  tarry  with  us 
a  shorter  period  than  any  other  birds  of  my  acquaintance, 
and  we  should  accept  the  generous  measure  of  their  merry 
chanting  while  they  are  here,  knowing  that  they  will 
early  disappear  and  leave  the  hedge  more  bare  to  our 
minds  than  when  they  appeared  in  its  summit  to  execute 
their  first  happy  chansonettes. 


Bartramian  Sandpiper.  35 


BAETEAMIAX  SANDPIPEE. 

Over  our  heads  in  our  April  and  May  rambles  there 
flies  a  gray,  snipe-like  bird,  frequently  uttering  a  long- 
drawn  whistle  not  much  unlike  the  soughing  of  the  wind 
among  the  trees.  Now  he  soars  on  expanded  pinions,  or, 
after  hovering  on  fluttering  wings  held  out  from  the  body, 
he  sails  in  a  long,  descending,  elliptical  arc  and  alights  on 
the  ground.  Again  he  soars  upward,  and  goes  to  a  dis- 
tant part  of  the  field,  where  he  is  joined  by  his  mate,  who 
soon  sails  whistling  to  another  of  their  haunts.  This 
bird  is  no  stranger  to  the  farmer  boy,  for  all  through  the 
springtime  while  he  plows  and  works,  the  "  field  plover  " 
soars  and  whistles,  claiming  the  notice  of  all  observers. 
The  bird  is  the  Bartramian  sandpiper,  properly  a  tattler, 
and  does  not  belong  to  the  family  of  plovers;  but  having 
been  thus  styled  by  popular  voice,  he  will  without  doubt 
be  known  chiefly  by  his  early-acquired  title.  His  prefer- 
ence for  the  open  prairies,  cultivated  fields  and  meadows 
has  led  him  to  forsake  the  sloughs  and  streamsides  which 
he  was  intended  to  frequent;  for  he  is  classed  with  a 
group  of  birds  which  by  nature  are  frequenters  of  the 
shores  of  inland  lakes,  ponds,  and  the  banks  of  rivers, 
and  have  the  toes  partly  webbed  to  facilitate  their  move- 
ments along  the  edge  of  the  water.  The  Bartramian 
sandpiper  seems  perfectly  at  home  in  the  meadow,  and  we 
admire  the  slender  figure  of  this  upland  creature  as  he 
runs  ahead  of  us  over  the  bare  areas  or  appears  with  head 
erect  after  threading  his  way  rapidly  through  the  grass 
which  momentarily  hides  him  from  view.  Standing  on  a 
bare  spot  in  the  lower  parts  of  the  meadow,  the  bird  is 
somewhat  difficult  to  discover,  for  the  gray  plumage  of 
its  back,  grading  into  white  on  the  lower  parts,  bears  a 
general  resemblance  to  the  surroundings,  and  renders  the 
bird  nearly  safe  from  observation  except  when  it  raises 
its  head  and  slender  neck  to  watch  our  movements. 

In  the  "  Key  to  North  American  Birds "  Dr.  Coues 
gives  the  habitat  of  the  species  as  "  North  America  at 
large ;  rare  west  of  the  Eocky  Mountains,  in  profusion 
on  the  prairies  of  the  interior,  and  common  eastward  ; 


36  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

north  to  the  Yukon.  Breeds  from  the  middle  districts 
northward;  winters  extralimital."  These  sandpipers 
generally  reach  central  Illinois  soon  alter  the  first  ot 
April,  varying  earlier  or  later  with  the  advance  ot  the 
season.  It  does  not  appear  that  wo  are  in  the  route  of 
the  heavy  or  regular  migrations,  for  most  of  these  birds 
that  come  to  us  are  summer  residents,  and  immediately 
establish  themselves  in  a  particular  field  or  group  of 
meadows,  in  which  they  will  later  choose  a  convenient 
depression  for  their  future  habitation.  They  also  com- 
monly come  to  us  in  pairs,  having  settled  the  momentous 
question  of  partnership  before  their  arrival,  as  only  two 
birds  are  usually  seen  in  the  area  which  they  seem  to 
claim,  and  these  two  rear  the  brood  which  later  increases 
the  interest  awakened  by  the  older  members.  Doubtless 
there  are  frequent  visits  exchanged  between  the  residents 
of  neighboring  fields,  but  ordinarily  the  birds  are  happily 
mated  when  they  indicate  their  choice  of  a  summer  home 
by  immediate  and  continued  occupation. 

After  the  beginning  of  the  breeding  season,  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  surprise  the  birds  in  entering  their  chosen 
domain.  As  we  near  the  quarters  of  a  pair  of  the  sand- 
pipers, we  are  apprised  of  the  fact  that  our  presence  is 
known  by  hearing  the  long,  peculiar  whistle  of  one  of  the 
birds,  and  we  may  see  it  sailing  high  in  the  air  watching 
our  movements.  During  our  stay  in  the  meadow  we  are 
kept  under  close  surveillance  by  one  and  perhaps  both  of 
the  birds  sometimes  sailing  and  hovering  directly  above 
us  and  then  gliding  downward  to  alight  near  us.  I  have 
frequently  ensconced  myself  behind  a  convenient  hedge 
to  watch  the  movements  of  a  pair  of  these  sandpipers,  in 
order  to  find  the  nest  which  I  felt  certain  was  situated 
somewhere  in  the  meadow  over  which  the  birds  hovered 
with  such  jealous  watchfulness,  but  my  trouble  was 
always  turned  to  naught  by  the  penetration  of  the  vig- 
ilant owners.  On  one  occasion,  after  I  had  tramped  over 
a  meadow  in  search  of  a  nest,  I  concealed  myself  behind 
a  hedge  through  which  I  could  watch  the  actions  of  the 
anxious  birds,  but  even  in  my  leafy  shelter  I  was  discov- 
ered and  outwitted  by  them.  They  sailed  over  my  head 
within  forty  feet  of  me,  and  frequently  alighted  very 


Bartramian  Sandpiper.  37 

close  to  me  on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge,  as  though  to 
tantalize  and  mislead  me.  Often  have  I  climbed  through 
a  hedge  and  gone  in  search  of  a  nest  near  a  spot  where  I 
had  seen  a  sandpiper  alight,  but  the  birds  never  thus  re- 
vealed to  me  the  source  of  their  whistled  content. 

When  these  birds  are  mated — and  they  are  seldom  seen 
otherwise  in  this  locality  in  the  early  part  of  the  summer 
— they  evince  wonderful  attachment  and  faithfulness  to 
each  other.  Should  either  of  them  espy  the  approach  of 
an  intruder,  and  sound  the  prolonged  mellow  whistle,  the 
other  bird  is  certain  to  appear  soon  and  to  add  its  efforts 
to  those  of  its  mate  in  attempting  to  mislead  and  baffle 
their  disturber.  One  does  not  seem  to  care  to  be  in  close 
proximity  to  the  other,  but  there  seems  to  be  perfect 
understanding  and  confidence  between  them ;  and  when 
one  alights  and  threads  its  way  among  the  grass  tufts,  the 
other  does  not  impatiently  follow  it.  Indeed,  the  move- 
ments of  either  bird  on  the  ground  are  always  leisurely 
enough  to  attract  notice  to  this  mutual  trust.  I  have 
sometimes  waited  many  minutes  for  one  to  fly  after  it 
had  alighted  in  a  spot  favorable  for  observation.  I  once 
watched  a  bird  that  remained  in  one  spot  during  the 
time  in  which  I  ate  my  lunch,  and  I  have  looked  so  long 
at  one  that  my  eyes  became  fatigued  because  of  the  mim- 
icry of  the  bare  spot  in  which  the  bird  stood.  Oftener, 
however,  one  will  walk  quietly  and  then  pause  awhile  to 
take  observation,  again  running  several  steps  and  then 
reconnoitering  as  before. 

Its  long  slender  neck  aids  the  sandpiper  in  raising  its 
head  above  the  surrounding  grass  to  watch  the  move- 
ments of  an  intruder.  Indeed,  the  slender  form  of  the 
sandpiper  is  a  feature  worthy  of  note,  and  this  character- 
istic lends  a  grace  to  it  which  compensates  for  its  lack  of 
striking  colors,  and  we  are  impelled  to  regard  the  bird  as 
handsome  even  in  somber  colors.  Its  delicately  balanced 
head  nods  gently  with  the  motion  of  its  body  as  the 
owner  runs  between  the  tufts  and  peers  over  the  top  of 
the  grass,  or  steps  lightly  about  the  narrow  limits  of  a 
bare  area  amid  the  verdure.  When  suspicious  of  the  in- 
tentions of  an  intruder,  one  of  these  birds  will  sometimes 
alight  on  a  fence-post  or  in  the  hedge,  the  better  to  observe 


38  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

the  movements  of  the  suspected  person.  Immediately 
after  alighting  it  lifts  up  both  wings,  and  holds  them 
out  from  the  body  for  a  moment  before  folding  them, 
greatly  like  the  actions  of  the  sparrow  hawks  when  they 
settle  from  flight.  We  readily  perceive  the  aptness  of  its 
popular  name  of  "grass  plover,"  for  a  large  portion  of  its 
time  is  spent  in  running  over  the  short  grass.  Its  prefer- 
ence for  pastures,  meadows,  old  fields,  and  uplands  gen- 
erally has  been  remarked  by  those  who  know  this  bird  as 
the  "upland  plover."  In  the  West  it  is  known  as  the 
"prairie  pigeon"  and  "prairie  snipe."  In  this  section  its 
commonest  appellation  is  "field  plover." 

These  birds  begin  to  nest  in  central  Illinois  soon  after 
the  first  of  May,  and  the  breeding  season  is  prolonged  into 
June,  though  only  one  brood  is  reared,  except  in  rare  in- 
stances. The  nest  is  always  situated  on  the  ground,  and 
is  therefore  difficult  to  find,  unless  it  is  disclosed  when  the 
female  is  startled  from  it,  or  when  the  bird  is  seen  to  enter 
it — the  latter  case  being  exceptional,  since  the  birds  run 
in  the  grass  so  irregularly.  Nidification  is  not  a  very 
complicated  process  with  the  sandpipers,  as  they  ordinarily 
find  a  depression  beside  a  tuft  which  pleases  the  fancy  of 
the  female,  and  the  dried  grass  of  which  the  habitation  is 
made  can  be  scraped  together  in  a  short  time.  As  build- 
ing sites  low  meadows  are  most  favored,  and  pastures  con- 
taining ponds,  or  broad,  shallow  ditches,  though  the  nest 
is  commonly  placed  on  the  higher  ground  of  the  area. 
The  architectural  ideas  of  the  sandpiper  are  similar  to 
those  of  the  meadow  lark,  but  usually  the  nest  is  not  so 
well  sheltered  by  a  grassy  dome.  Davie  says:  "  The  eggs 
of  Bartram's  sandpiper  are  of  pale  clay  or  buff,  thickly 
spotted  with  umber  and  yellowish-brown,  especially  about 
the  larger  end;  commonly  four  in  number;  sizes  range 
from  1.70  to  1.90  long,  by  about  1.28  broad." 

The  description  of  the  Bartramian  sandpiper  given  by 
Dr.  Coues  in  his  "  Birds  of  the  Northwest "  is  so  interesting 
that  we  take  pleasure  in  quoting  his  account  of  the  young 
birds.  He  says  that  they  "  are  curious  little  creatures, 
timid  and  weak,  led  about  by  their  anxious  parents,  so- 
licitous for  their  welfare,  and  ready  to  engage  in  the  most 
unequal  contests  in  their  behalf.  When  half  grown,  but 


Bartramian  Sandpiper.  39 

still  in  the  down,  the  little  creatures  have  a  curiously 
clumsy,  top-heavy  look ;  their  legs  look  disproportionately 
large,  like  those  of  a  young  colt  or  calf;  and  they  may  be 
caught  with  little  difficulty,  as  they  do  not  run  very  well. 
I  once  happened  upon  a  brood — perhaps  two  weeks  old — 
rambling  with  their  mother  over  the  prairie.  She  sounded 
the  alarm,  to  scatter  her  brood,  but  not  before  I  had  se- 
cured one  of  them  in  my  hand.  I  never  saw  a  braver  de- 
fense attempted  than  was  made  by  this  strong-hearted 
though  powerless  bird,  who,  after  exhausting  her  artifices 
to  draw  me  in  pursuit  of  herself,  by  tumbling  about  as  if 
desperately  wounded,  and  lying  panting  with  outstretched 
wings  on  the  grass,  gave  up  hope  of  saving  her  young  in 
this  way,  and  then  almost  attacked  me,  dashing  close  up, 
and  retreating  again  to  renew  her  useless  onslaught.  She 
was  evidently  incited  to  unusual  courage  by  the  sight  of  her 
little  one  struggling  in  my  hand.  At  this  downy  stage  the 
young  birds  are  white  below,  finely  mottled  with  black, 
white,  and  rich  brown  above ;  the  feet  and  under  mandible 
are  light  colored ;  the  upper  mandible  is  blackish." 

In  this  locality  the  young  birds  discover  the  same  at- 
tachment for  their  native  meadow  as  the  parent  birds. 
They  spend  most  of  their  time  on  the  ground,  and  do  not 
scatter  far  from  one  another,  the  entire  family  being 
usually  within  easy  call.  "When  alarmed,  the  parent  birds 
take  wing,  while  the  young  run  among  the  grass  tufts, 
though  they  are  able  to  fly  well.  A  person  not  familiar 
with  the  habits  of  these  birds  will  wonder  on  seeing  them 
ahead  of  him,  when  they  have  not  previously  attracted 
notice;  they  seem  to  start  up  like  sprites  from  the  meadow 
grass.  The  young  birds  have  a  trick  of  biding  behind  the 
tussocks,  thus  waiting  for  the  near  approach  of  the  dis- 
turber, and  then  fly  ing  for  a  distance,  alighting  to  run  and 
skulk  in  the  grass  as  before.  Here  they  do  not  form 
flocks,  as  we  are  told  they  do  in  the  Northwest,  where 
they  are  found  in  such  numbers.  It  is  possible  that  the 
residents  of  this  section  join  the  regular  flocks  when  they 
reach  the  routes  of  the  heavy  migrations,  but  here  they 
disappear  as  they  came,  in  families  and  as  individuals. 

Since  these  sandpipers  spend  so  much  of  their  time  in 
the  fields,  pastures,  and  meadows',  their  utility  is  un- 


40  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

doubted  in  the  destruction  of  grasshoppers  and  other  in- 
sects injurious  to  the  interests  of  vegetation.  They  are 
probably  as  faithful  as  the  meadow  larks  in  searching 
among  the  roots  of  the  grass  for  hidden  insects  and  lurk- 
ing larvae,  though  their  services  in  this  direction  are  not 
so  prolonged,  since  they  come  later  and  leave  earlier. 
They  are  said  to  feed  also  on  small  berries  and  the  tender 
buds  of  plants,  and  from  the  edge  of  the  water  to  pick  up 
a  small  proportion  of  animal  food. 


GRASSHOPPEE  SPAEROW. 

"Surely,"  exclaims  a  reader,  "you  do  not  mean  to  in- 
clude the  grasshopper  sparrow  among  your  musicians ! 
Or  at  least  you  do  not  mean  to  characterize  the  faint, 
shrilling  performance  of  the  grasshopper  sparrow  as 
music  1"  And  why  not,  pray  tell?  To  the  sympathetic 
ear  the  voice  of  the  humble  grasshopper  sparrow  is  as 
necessary  to  the  harmony  of  the  meadow  overture  as  the 
clear  piping  of  the  meadow  lark  or  the  jingling  triangle 
of  the  bobolink.  The  leading  instruments  of  the  orches- 
tra usually  receive  our  attention,  yet  the  accompanying 
pieces  are  chiefly  responsible  for  the  resulting  harmony. 
Taken  alone,  the  notes  of  the  minor  parts  are  harsh  and 
unmelodious;  but  sounded  in  time  and  concord  with  the 
cornet,  the  first  violin,  and  the  double  bass,  they  assist  in 
producing  an  effect  delightful  and  harmonious.  Thus  it 
is  with  the  voice  of  our  little  accompanist  in  the  mottled 
brown  coat.  Heard  alone  at  close  station,  it  is  seemingly 
shrill  and  unmusical;  but  in  the  midst  of  expanded  ver- 
dure, following  the  lead  of  other  meadow  voices,  its  noon- 
day crooning  produces  a  dreamy  harmony  perfectly  in 
accord  with  the  thoughts  of  the  listener.  And  how  fitting 
is  the  bird's  name!  Who  would  ever  think,  on  first  hear- 
ing the  wheezy,  burring  trill  of  the  hidden  performer, 
that  it  was  not  the  stridulating  call  of  a  grasshopper  or 
other  insect  nestling  in  the  grass?  Of  all  the  bird  voices 
of  the  meadow,  for  its  interesting  originality  and  its  effect 
in  ensemble,  we  can  least  spare  that  of  the  little  grass- 
hopper sparrow. 


Grasshopper  Sparrow.  41 

Notwithstanding  the  abundance  of  the  grasshopper 
sparrows  in  the  meadows  and  hayfields,  however,  there 
are  many  persons  who  never  think  of  associating  these 
little  timorous  brown  and  yellow-clad  creatures  with  the 
shrill  trilling  so  common  in  such  places.  By  many  of  the 
farm  boys  the  startled  birds  that  dart  through  the  grass 
at  their  approach  are  known  as  "grass  birds,"  an  ex- 
tremely appropriate  title,  by  the  way,  for  few  birds  spend 
more  time  in  the  grass  than  these  shy,  retiring  sparrows. 
Though  a  number  may  be  heard  calling  at  any  time  in 
the  mating  and  nesting  season,  none  may  be  in  sight,  and 
in  the  mingled  green  and  brown  herbage  of  the  meadows 
they  sit  through  most  of  the  day,  incessantly  repeating 
their  wheezy  trills.  The  popular  name  of  "  ground  bird  " 
is  equally  significant  of  their  aversion  to  long  flights  or 
high  situations  from  which  to  shrill  their  measures  of 
content.  On  the  ground  or  in  the  grass  they  run  like 
meadow  mice  to  elude  the  presence  and  notice  of  intrud- 
ers; and  though  the  terms  "grass  bird"  and  "ground 
bird  "  are  indefinite  and  applied  to  other  birds  of  the 
meadows,  they  suggest  the  leading  traits  in  the  habits  of 
these  sparrows.  Another  distinctive  appellation  formerly 
given  to  them  and  yet  retained  by  them  in  some  localities 
is  that  of  "yellow-winged  sparrow,"  a  very  satisfactory 
term,  in  view  of  the  markings  by  which  these  birds  may 
be  readily  identified  by  the  novice.  While  the  wing  is 
not  entirely  yellow,  the  bend  of  the  wing  is  brightly 
marked  with  this  color,  and  the  lower  division  of  the 
shoulders  is  tinged  with  the  same  conspicuous  color. 
These  marks  will  enable  the  bird-gazer  to  distinguish 
these  interesting  little  sparrows  from  other  members  of 
the  family  which  bear  superficial  resemblances  to  them. 

Grasshopper-like  in  its  utterances  and  mouse-like  in  its 
movements  on  the  ground,  it  is  no  less  original  and  in- 
teresting in  its  flight.  Have  you  never  watched  the 
aerial  movements  of  certain  birds  and  conjectured  the 
purposes  of  their  flight?  Why  does  the  sluggish  red- 
tailed  hawk  soar  above  us  in  widening  circles,  mounting 
ever  higher  and  higher  to  float  scarcely  lower  than  the 
drifting  cloud-fleeces,  except  to  forget  the  earth  for  a 
time  and  bathe  in  the  flooding  sunshine?  And  when  the 


42  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

vulture  wheels  around  a  projecting  angle  of  the  grove, 
careening  low  in  the  full  strength  of  its  broad  pinions,  do 
we  not  immediately  infer  that  it  is  thus  impelled  by  a 
powerful  craving  for  its  natural  food?  Have  you  not 
seen  the  blue  jay  flitting  silently  from  tree  to  tree  in  an 
orchard  or  row  of  highway  maples,  and  instinctively  de- 
cided that  it  was  guilty  in  intent  if  not  in  deed?  The 
robin  flits  swiftly  across  our  path  and  wings  its  way 
around  intervening  objects  in  a  manner  so  business-like 
that  we  perceive  it  has  an  object  in  view,  perhaps  a  mud 
hut  upon  a  horizontal  branch  of  an  elm,  or  in  a  high 
crotch  of  a  tall  maple  yonder.  But  who  ever  saw  a  grass- 
hopper sparrow  start  out  in  flight  as  though  it  knew 
whither  it  was  bound?  In  fact,  its  starting  is  so  sudden 
that  it  surely  has  no  time  to  plan  its  course  or  determine 
its  destination.  A  hurried  darting  through  the  grass  to 
mislead  the  observer  as  to  its  starting  point,  a  blurred  vis- 
ion of  brown  mottled  with  yellow,  and  away  it  goes  in  a 
zigzag,  erratic  course,  as  though  dodging  an  invisible  pur- 
suer close  at  its  heels,  up  and  down  with  the  jerky  movement 
peculiai  to  the  sparrows,  apparently  progressing  through 
the  air  by  short  leaps  above  the  general  level  of  the  line 
of  its  flight,  until  it  drops  vertically  into  the  grass  and 
vanishes.  Thus  it  behaves  also  when  not  startled,  for  it 
sometimes  takes  an  airing  over  the  meadow  toward  even- 
ing, flying  usually  about  six  or  eight  feet  above  the  sur- 
face, following  a  circular  course  in  the  general  result,  but 
varying  to  the  right  and  left  of  a  true  circle.  In  these 
evening  excursions  it  rises  from  the  ground  with  its  char- 
acteristic, hurried  movements,  and  at  their  close  it  drops 
as  abruptly  and  aimlessly  into  the  grass  as  though  escap- 
ing from  impending  danger  and  confused  beyond  the  use 
of  its  guiding  faculties.  These  voluntary  flights  of  this 
sparrow  are  not  often  observed,  and  only  in  the  vivacity 
of  the  mating  season  does  it  partially  forget  its  ordinary 
proclivities. 

In  the  second  and  revised  Check-list  of  North  Amer- 
ican Birds,  the  grasshopper  sparrows  are  given  a  geo- 
raphic  distribution  throughout  "  Eastern  United  States 
and  Southern  Canada,  west  to  the  plains,  south,  in  win- 
ter, to  Florida,  Cuba,  Porto  Eico,  and  coast  of  Central 


Grasshopper  Sparrow.  43- 

America."  These  sparrows  seldom  arrive  in  this  section 
before  the  middle  of  April,  when  the  hardier  migrant 
sparrows  have  been  with  us  over  a  month,  and  have  in 
most  instances  established  their  homes  and  begun  house- 
keeping. True  to  their  unassuming  and  retiring  disposi- 
tion, they  are  silent  for  several  days  after  their  comingr 
raising  their  feeble  trills  only  occasionally  until  they 
gradually  acquire  greater  confidence.  As  the  mating 
season  advances,  however,  and  their  fellows  increase  in 
numbers  in  their  resorts,  their  voices  are  heard  inces- 
santly throughout  the  day  and  throughout  the  breeding 
season,  which  is  protracted  into  July.  From  various  sit- 
uations in  the  meadows  their  shrill  ditties  greet  the  ear. 
To  determine  the  station  of  one  of  the  concealed  perform- 
ers, we  strike  a  line  directly  toward  the  supposed  spot 
from  which  the  call  arises;  but  ere  we  reach  the  conjec- 
tured location,  the  performer  has  secretly  shifted  his  posi- 
tion, probably  between  his  short  trills,  and  we  fail  to 
discover  him.  Thus  they  sing  here  and  there  through- 
out the  area,  sometimes  not  far  away,  but  eluding  our 
efforts  to  flush  them,  like  veritable  jack-o-lanterns  of  the 
broad  noonday. 

However,  if  we  scan  the  meadow  surface  closely,  on 
some  low  weed  top  or  grass  tuft  we  may  descry  the  in- 
distinct form  of  one  of  the  interested  performers,  clinging 
tightly  to  his  support  in  order  to  throw  his  head  more 
erect,  and  in  fancy  we  can  see  the  vibrations  of  his 
swelling  throat  as  he  rattles  forth  that  monotonous  ex- 
pression of  his  emotions,  perhaps  to  engage  the  fancy  of 
his  lady  sitting  in  the  grass  at  the  base  of  his  support. 
Sometimes  the  summit  of  a  vervain  furnishes  him  a  lofty 
platform  from  which  he  can  pour  forth  his  affections,  or 
the  taller  spike  of  a  mullein.  On  extraordinary  occasions 
one  will  mount  a  fence  post  or  other  isolated  object  of 
similar  height  and  there  deliver  his  wheezy  lay.  When- 
ever one  finds  himself  an  object  of  attention,  however,  be 
drops  immediately  into  the  subjacent  herbage,  objecting 
to  remain  in  view  as  well  as  to  sing  for  human  listeners, 
and  thereafter  for  a  time  he  sings  to  his  mistress  from  a 
lowlier  situation.  If  the  singer  is  undisturbed,  he  will 
remain  on  one  perch  for  many  minutes  repeating  his 


44  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

characteristic  call,  even  exhausting  the  limited  patience 
of  the  interested  bird-gazer  who  wishes  the  bird  would  do 
something  besides  sitting  there  and  uttering  that  monoto- 
nous grasshopper  trill,  yet  who  is  aware  that  any  move- 
ment on  his  part  may  drive  the  diminutive  performer 
immediately  into  the  grass  beyond  recall. 

The  grasshopper  sparrow  further  evinces  its  disposition 
for  privacy  by  the  concealment  it  seeks  for  its  home,  and 
by  guarding  its  secrecy  after  the  home  has  been  estab- 
lished. It  chooses  a  depression  at  the  base  of  a  tuft  of 
grass,  or  a  nook  beside  the  roots  of  adjacent  tufts.  In  its 
general  plan  the  nest  is  a  miniature  of  the  home  of  the 
meadow  lark,  except  that  the  roof  of  the  grassy  cot  is  a 
continuation  of  the  bottom  and  sides,  and  hence  it  can  be 
removed  as  a  whole  from  its  recess  among  the  bases  of 
the  grassy  stems. 

The  eggs  are  clear  white,  having  a  perceptible  polish, 
and  are  spotted  irregularly  with  reddish  brown.  Their 
breadth  is  large  in  comparison  with  their  length,  and  in 
all  respects  they  are  quite  different  from  the  eggs  of  our 
common  sparrows.  They  vary  greatly  in.  size,  averaging 
about  .75  by  .58  of  an  inch  in  length  and  breadth. 

I  chanced  upon  my  last  nest  of  this  sparrow  in  crossing 
&  small  hayfiold.  The  female  darted  out  of  the  grass  at 
my  very  feet;  in  fact,  I  had  stepped  over  the  nest  with 
one  foot,  and  was  standing  directly  over  the  site  thus 
revealed  by  the  startled  owner.  The  entrance  of  the 
grass-thatched  hut  was  in  the  sloping  side,  in  what  might 
correspond  to  the  upper  story  of  the  nest,  and  was  barely 
large  enough  to  admit  the  body  of  the  bird  into  the  cozy 
retreat.  Above  the  roof  of  the  sunless  home  the  rootlets 
and  stems  of  the  grass  had  spread,  so  that  the  nest  ap- 
peared to  be  sunk  among  the  dark  fibers,  and  was  pro- 
tected on  every  side  except  at  the  entrance.  Marking 
the  place  by  setting  up  the  dried  stem  of  a  weed,  I  re- 
turned to  the  nest  several  hours  afterward,  approaching 
it  on  the  side  of  the  entrance  to  observe  the  owner  at 
home.  As  I  stealthily  drew  near  the  nest  and  peered 
over  the  heads  of  surrounding  timothy,  I  found  the  little 
creature  nestling  on  her  treasures,  the  opening  of  the  nest 
being  large  enough  for  me  to  note  the  lines  of  yellow  ra- 


Grasshopper  Sparrow.  45 

dialing  backward  from  her  eyes,  one  in  the  middle  line 
of  the  crown  and  one  over  each  eye.  These  character- 
istics, with  the  yellow  markings  of  the  wings,  will  enable 
one  to  identify  an  individual  of  this  species.  Still  she 
tarried,  looking  wonderingly  as  I  cautiously  drew  nearer 
and  nearer,  until  I  was  fairly  bending  over  the  site,  when 
she  darted  out  and  away  in  her  peculiar  manner,  thus 
uncovering  her  five  glossy  eggs  and  leaving  them  without 
a  parting  chirp. 

Although  the  male  seeks  to  win  the  affections  of  his 
lady  love  by  persistently  shrilling  near  her  the  story  of 
his  passion,  he  generally  represses  his  love  trills  near  the 
home  which  his  mistress  has  established.  Ho  is  perhaps 
aware  that  the  snug  habitation  is  safe  from  observation, 
and  that  its  secrecy  is  assured  if  he  is  discreet  in  select- 
ing the  stations  from  which  to  cheer  the  monotonous  life 
of  his  mate.  Cheer  her  he  must,  however,  and  so  he  trills 
throughout  the  day  from  fancied  situations  within  her 
hearing,  yet  safely  removed  from  the  guarded  spot.  He 
commonly  sings  from  the  ground,  but  frequently  mounts 
a  low  weed  stem,  sometimes  remaining  on  a  particular 
perch  for  many  minutes,  at  other  times  changing  his 
position  with  the  humorsome  restlessness  which  charac- 
terizes the  sparrows.  When  his  brooding  spouse  wishes 
to  take  a  few  moments  of  relaxation  from  her  duties,  to 
run  among  the  rank  culms  or  to  flit  a  short  distance  over 
the  waving  verdure,  he  gallantly  relieves  her  and  lov- 
ingly assumes  charge  of  the  household  affairs  in  her  ab- 
sence. Indeed,  our  little  grasshopper  sparrows  seem  to 
be  models  of  conjugal  deportment,  and  hence  their  do- 
mestic life  is  apparently  felicitous,  without  many  of  the 
jars  noticeable  in  the  lives  of  others  of  the  birds.  After 
a  brief  season  the  assiduous  brooding  of  the  female  is  re- 
warded, and  the  ease  and  song  of  the  former  days  give 
place  to  anxious  care  for  the  helpless  offspring.  The  mow- 
ing of  the  hay  generally  terminates  the  nesting  season, 
and  it  is  probable  that  in  most  instances  only  one  brood 
is  reared. 

The  habits  of  these  sparrows  after  the  breeding 
season  are  strictly  in  harmony  with  their  history  in 
the  early  spring  and  summer.  They  skulk  even  more 


46  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

closely  in  the  grass  and  weeds  than  in  the  earlier 
season,  though  their  trills  are  heard  generally  through 
the  most  of  July,  in  lessened  intensity  and  decreasing 
frequency.  The  changed  appearance  and  condition  of 
the  meadows  after  the  haying  time  are  accompanied 
by  a  transformation  equally  noticeable  in  the  behavior 
of  the  meadow  birds.  Their  former  animation  of 
movement  and  vivacity  of  manner  seem  quite  foreign 
to  the  retiring,  skulking  disposition  discovered  after- 
wards. However,  we  must  resign  ourselves  to  the  un- 
pleasant phases  in  the  characters  of  our  feathered 
friends,  knowing  that  instinct  and  external  causes 
operate  to  prepare  them  for  the  annual  movement  soon 
to  take  them  from  their  summer  homes.  The  season 
of  summer  bird-life  is  short  and  full  of  incident.  Its 
beginning  is  courtship  and  ecstatic  song;  its  continu- 
ance is  tempered  joy  and  accumulating  cares ;  its  ending 
is  silence  and  seclusion. 

How  perfectly  typical  of  our  own  transient  existence  in 
the  short  span  of  life,  with  its  gay  and  happy  youth,  its 
moderate  joys  of  the  middle  period,  and  its  somber  wait- 
ing for  the  time  of  departure ! 


II.— RESIDENTS  OF  THE  ORCHARD. 


"  Buds,  which  the  breath  of  summer  days, 
shall  lengthen  into  leafy  sprays; 
Boughs,  where  the  thrush  with  crimson  breast 
Shalt  haunt  and  sing  and  hide  her  nest." 

—BRYANT. 

AN  orchard  is  a  mine  of  almost  limitless  opportunity  to 
the  observant  lover  of  bird-life.  From  the  advent  of  the 
bluebird,  forerunning  azure  skies  and  invigorating  breezes, 
until  the  sweet  plaint  of  the  "peabody  bird  "  is  heard  on 
the  frosty  mornings  of  early  fall,  the  typical  orchard  is 
animate  with  the  movements  of  the  birds,  and  vocal  with 
their  notes  and  cries.  There 

"  *  *  *  the  busy  birds  shall  flutter, 
With  the  light  timber  for  their  nests, 

And,  pausing  from  their  labor,  utter 
The  morning  sunshine  in  their  breasts." 

There  the  foliage  seems  to  expand  with  unusual  vivid- 
ness, forming  a  more  complete  setting  for  the  living  gems 
flashing  among  the  spreading  branches,  and  there  the 
birds  seem  to  utter  their  notes  with  additional  charm  and 
fervency.  There  also  they  receive, our  advances  with 
diminished  suspicion,  and  hence  afford  us  opportunities  of 
reading  more  closely  between  the  lines  of  their  ordinary 
existences,  and  of  comprehending  more  fully  the  impulses 
that  prompt  their  individual  actions.  Besides  its  con- 
venience in  situation,  the  orchard  has  a  methodical  dis- 
position of  its  trees,  and  hence  its  different  portions  are 
more  evenly  lighted,  thus  assuring  the  beginner  in  orni- 
thology more  satisfaction  and  profit  in  entering  upon  his 
studies  there  than  elsewhere.  Orchards  in  the  outskirts 
of  villages,  or  in  the  vicinity  of  woods,  streams,  and  ponds, 
are  notable  for  both  the  variety  of  species  and  the  number 
of  individuals  dwelling  within  their  limits.  Old  orchards 
are  more  populous  than  younger  orchards,  because  they 
furnish  more  nesting  sites,  and  also  because  they  present 

(47) 


48  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

a  more  bountiful  supply  of  food  in  the  increased  numbers 
of  insects  which  infest  decaying  and  aged  vegetation. 
These  centers  of  avian  activity  are  within  the  reach  of 
most  persons  who  love  to  study  nature  at  first  hand  ;  and 
only  thus  can  nature  be  really  studied.  To  know  the 
birds,  one  must  visit  them  in  their  haunts,  and  there 
train  the  ear  to  distinguish  the  varied  notes  of  joy  and 
praise,  or  anger  and  alarm.  In  the  resorts  of  his  avian 
neighbors,  the  bird-gazer  must  accustom  his  eye  to  recog- 
nize the  colors  of  the  twinkling  wing,  and  to  identify  the 
flitting  form  among  the  friendly  foliage.  As  one  extends 
his  acquaintance  with  the  residents  of  the  orchard,  its 
little  area  will  exert  increasing  charm  and  fascination  for 
him.  No  portions  of  the  experience  of  the  bird-gazer  are 
fraught  with  more  pleasant  memories  than  the  hours  spent 
with  the  animated,  thriving  inhabitants  of  the  orchard 
colony. 

For  our  first  visit  to  the  orchard  wo  appoint  a  morning 
in  the  latter  half  of  April,  and  soon  after  sunrise  we  reach 
our  destination,  knowing  that  we  should  be  early  afield  to 
find  our  feathered  neighbors  active  and  musical.  Fortu- 
nately, the  morning  is  well  adapted  to  awaken  the  latent 
enthusiasm  of  the  novice.  The  mild  breeze  whispers  to 
us  of  the  fervent  breath  of  the  summer  sun,  and  the  azure 
face  of  the  heavens  greets  us  with  unclouded  brow.  The 
fresh  foliage  glows  with  vernal  splendor,  and  the  bursting 
buds  gleam  in  their  emerald  settings.  As  we  enter  the 
limits  of  the  orchard  the  noisy  grackles  or  crow  blackbirds 
become  interested  in  our  movements,  and  thenceforth  at- 
tend our  steps  with  vociferous  objections  to  our  intrusion. 
Most  of  the  summer  birds  have  arrived,  and  stirring 
scenes  of  labor  are  being  enacted  on  all  sides.  However, 
we  must  not  be  allured  by  every  engaging  sight  and 
sound,  but  must  focus  our  powers  of  observation  upon  a 
particular  species,  if  we  desire  to  gather  definite  knowl- 
edge in  our  morning  visit  to  the  orchard.  Standing  under 
a  tree,  we  pause  to  note  the  movements  .of  the  various  in- 
dividuals within  the  range  of  our  observation,  and  to  se- 
lect a  promising  object  of  study,  when  a  gentle  twitter  is 
heard,  and  the  familiar  notes  call  our  attention  to  a  species 
we  have  long  known  and  loved. 


Bluebird.  49 


BLUEBIRD. 

What  delightful  suggestions  are  wafted  into  our  minds 
with  the  touching  carol  of  the  bluebird  !^  Its  first  faint, 
wind-borne  warble  is  a  herald  of  bluer  skies  and  sunnier 
days,  though  the  author  often  appears  in  our  latitude  be- 
fore the  departure. of  winter,  and  frequently  encounters 
bleak  winds  and  leaden  skies  ere  spring  exerts  its  full 
sway.  However,  we  who  love  the  birds  look  eagerly  for 
the  appearance  of  the  bluebird,  and  we  regard  its  arrival 
as  an  earnest  of  the  brighter  days  certainly  at  hand.  How 
can  we  fail  to  regard  its  azure  except  as  a  fragment  from 
the  blue  of  the  summer  noonday  arch,  or  its  white  except 
as  a  shred  from  the  floating  fleeces  of  the  spring  midday? 
Surely  the  bare  outlines  of  the  maple  in  whose  top  the 
first  bluebird  is  warbling  are  speedily  to  be  clothed  in  a 
living  garb  of  green.  We  think  of 

«*     *     *     deep  shadows  on  the  grass, 
Of  meadows  where  in  sun  the  cattle  graze, 

Where,  as  the  breezes  pass, 
The  gleaming  rushes  lean  a  thousand  ways." 

And  so  we  read  in  the  tender  utterances  of  the  bluebird 
a  message  from  the  very  heart  of  summer,  and  we  seem  to 
hear  the  gentle  rippling  of  the  poet's  returning  flood  of 
life  as  it  creeps  upon  the  shore  of  our  environments. 

The  first  bluebirds  of  the  season  appear  in  the  open 
regions  of  central  Illinois  early  in  February.  The  date  of 
their  earliest  arrival  noted  in  my  journal  is  February  3, 
1884,  and  the  date  of  their  latest  arrival  recorded  by  me 
is  February  25, 1881.  Some  observers  in  this  locality, 
however,  report  the  residence  of  the  bluebirds  through  the 
winter.  I  have  never  seen  them  about  this  neighborhood 
in  midwinter,  the  open  prairies  here  doubtless  affording 
them  no  suitable  shelter  from  our  chilling  winds.  Yet 
they  remain  in  numbers  in  the  heavy  forests  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi, Ohio,  and  other  river  bottoms  in  the  southern 
part  of  our  State,  where  they  find  supplies  of  berries 
of  the  mistletoe,  sumach,  scarlet  thorn,  holly,  besides  wild 
grapes,  and  a  few  hardy  insects.  The  notes  of  Mr.  O. 
Widmann  upon  "Bird  Migration  in  the  Mississippi  Val- 
4 


50  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

ley,"  compiled  by  W.  W.  Cooke,  and  published  in  forest 
and  Stream,  October  12,  1882,  report  that  great  numbers 
of  bluebirds  stay  all  winter,  becoming  more  and  more 
numerous  during  February.  Their  spring  arrival  in  New 
England  is  said  to  vary  from  the  last  of  February  to  the 
10th  of  March. 

Though  the  bluebirds  merit  our  lavish  encomiums  for 
braving  the  uncertainties  of  opening  spring  to  suggest  to 
us  visions  of  living  color  and  the  wealth  of  summer 
loveliness,  they  seem  to  hesitate  before  descending  among 
the  scenes  that  still  speak  of  winter-beaten  experiences. 
For  the  first  week  or  more  subsequent  to  their  arrival, 
they  frequent  the  tops  of  trees  in  village,  city,  and 
country,  as  well  as  the  tops  of  outbuildings,  continually 
warbling  their  sweet,  tremulous  strains.  They  seem  un- 
determined whether  to  remain;  and  when  we  note  their 
pretty  habit  of  lifting  their  wings  and  trembling  lightly 
on  their  perch,  we  sometimes  fear  that  they  are  about  to 
rise  and  leave  us  only  the  memory  of  their  visit.  How 
restless  they  appear  as  they  uneasily  shift  their  stations! 
What  a  contrast  their  unfamiliar  behavior  presents  to  their 
well-known  confidence  when  they  are  prepared  to  select 
a  home  and  assume  the  duties  of  rearing  their  broods! 

It  is  during  their  dalliance  in  the  "upper  story"  of 
their  resorts  that  the  bluebirds  utter  their  strains  with 
greatest  persistency  and  tenderest  expressions.  Then 
their  voices  seem  in  perfect  accord  with  time  and  place, 
aptly  borne  upon  the  genial  breath  of  April,  accompanying 
the  quivering  fervor  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the  quiet 
though  rapid  change  of  nature's  habiliments.  Even  in 
its  most  energetic  execution,  however,  there  is  a  well- 
defined  under-current  of  sadness  in  the  flow  of  spirits. 
Indeed,  every  action  of  these  amiable  creatures  is  to  me 
suggestive  of  trustful  resignation  to  the  hand  of  sorrow. 
I  must  ever  compare  the  gentle,  even-tempered  demeanor 
of  the  bluebirds  to  the  conduct  of  those  persons  whose 
lives  have  been  chastened  by  some  deep-reaching  force, 
and  whose  brightest  smiles  are  yet  brighter  in  their  unde- 
finable  trace  of  sadness.  It  seems  to  me  that  much  of  the 
charm  in  the  manners  of  the  bluebirds  lies  in  the  air  of 
pensiveness  ever  expressed  in  their  actions,  and  voiced  in 


Bluebird.  51 

the  touching  sweetness  of  their  familiar  warbles.  Who 
can  think  of  associating  gayety  with  the  gentle  deport- 
ment of  our  April  favorites?  Or  who  would  fancy  that 
their  warbles  are  prompted  by  the  gush  of  spirit  to  which 
we  attribute  the  utterances  of  others  of  the  songsters  ?  In- 
deed, our  vocalists  of  the  early  springtime  are  all  strangely 
plaintive  in  their  best  performances.  Their  voices  are  at- 
tuned to  a  common  chord  of  minor  melody.  It  is  only  in 
the  lyrics  of  the  songsters  of  the  unbounded  summer  that 
we  hear  expressions  of  real  cheer  and  gayety. 

The  period  of  bluebird  courtship  begins  in  the  upper 
regions,  and  is  continued  with  their  gradual  descent  to  the 
lower  levels  of  their  resorts.  Their  pretty  exchanges  of 
vows  of  love  and  honor  warm  them  to  greater  animation, 
and  they  show  more  of  the  old  confidence  and  familiarity, 
having  no  longer  the  inclination  to  drift  upward  from  us 
into  their  ethereal  castles.  They  are  thinking  of  estab- 
lishing homes,  and  hence  they  drop  lower  from  time  to 
time,  and  inspect  the  fence-posts  and  trunks  of  trees  for 
suitable  cavities  for  their  use.  They  now  revisit  the  boxes 
provided  by  the  children  or  kind-hearted  bird  friends  for 
their  use,  and  explore  the  recesses  of  out-buildings,  be- 
coming more  eager  and  demonstrative  in  their  gallantries. 
Crevices  in  barns,  granaries,  and  porches  are  peered  into 
as  promising  snug  sites  for  their  establishments,  and  many 
musical  conversations  and  twittering  quarrels  occur  before 
the  selections  are  made. 

Even  to  the  superficial  observer  there  is  a  curious  par- 
allelism in  the  lives  of  the  birds  and  men,  and'a  medi- 
tative mind  can  perceive  resemblances  to  all  phases  of 
human  experience  in  the  daily  lives  of  our  feathered 
friends.  Marriage  has  widely  divergent  results  upon  the 
characters  of  different  individuals,  and  in  a  similar  sense 
the  mating  time  is  a  transitional  period  in  the  habits  of 
many  species  of  birds.  Some  become  more  cheerful  as  the 
duties  of  home  and  family  increase,  and  they  daily  find 
added  inspiration  for  their  songs.  Others  no  longer  ex- 
hibit their  wonted  vivacity,  but  to  the  world  are  dull  and 
reserved— strangely  unlike  the  promise  of  their  earlier 
days.  The  bobolinks  are  a  notable  example  of  the  latter 
class,  and  the  bluebirds  are  equally  remarkable  for  their 


52  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

loss  of  inspiration  to  musical  expression  when  their  homes 
are  fixed.  With  the  beginning  of  the  nesting  season  their 
warbling  becomes  less  frequent,  and  is  executed  in  a  more 
subdued,  deeper  note  of  tenderness,  being  seldom  heard 
except  at  early  morning  or  late  in  the  day. 

The  nesting  habits  of  the  bluebirds  are  matters  of  com- 
mon knowledge.  They  formerly,  with  the  purple  martins 
and  the  house  wrens,  inhabited  apartments  in  the  boxes 
in  the  garden.  Frequently  the  martins  retained  one  side 
or  story  of  the  box,  and  the  bluebirds  occupied  another 
division.  The  conflict  with  the  English  sparrows,  how- 
ever, proved  so  sharp  that  our  gentle  bluebirds,  who  are 
seen  to  have  courage  and  endurance  when  they  wish  to 
display  it,  saw  fit  to  withdraw  from  the  unpleasant  dis- 
pute. Now  they  content  themselves  with  the  cavities  in 
decayed  fence-posts  and  other  sites  farther  from  our  towns 
and  dwellings.  While  the  martins  and  bluebirds  did  not 
live  in  uninterrupted  peace,  both  were  indigenous  to  the 
locality,  and  the  balance  had  been  adjusted  between  them, 
so  that  their  petty  quarrels  never  became  a  severe  struggle 
for  survival. 

The  nest  is  composed  of  dried  grass.  It  is  lined  with 
hairs  and  feathers,  and  is  constructed  with  varying  de- 
grees of  compactness.  The  eggs  number  from  four  to  six, 
and  are  of  a  uniform  pale  blue  color.  Sometimes  pale 
white  eggs  of  the  species  are  found.  Davie  gives  the 
average  size  of  the  eggs  as  .84  by  .62  of  an  inch. 

When  we  consider  the  strong  maternal  instinct  of  the 
bluebird,  we  have  a  partial  explanation  of  the  abrupt 
termination  of  its  former  habit  of  song.  Its  jealous  care 
and  deep-rooted  love  for  its  mate  and  home  lead  it  to  re- 
frain from  any  utterances  which  would  reveal  the  secret 
it  chooses  to  button  so  closely  under  its  ruddy  cinnamon 
vest.  And  yet  how  frankly  and  confidingly  it  nests  in 
the  most  open  cavity  in  a  post  or  stake,  obviously  con- 
spicuous to  the  eyes  of  observant  passers-by!  This  open- 
ness and  confidence  have  led  to  its  utter  sorrow,  for  few 
birds  suffer  the  disasters  which  overtook  the  nests  of  the 
bluebird  in  the  days  when  it  was  commoner  than  at 
present.  It  seems,  however,  that  it  has  been  wisely 
taught  by  its  bitter  experiences.  Now  it  retires  farther 


Bluebird.  53 

from  the  range  of  the  wandering  small  boy,  and  chooses 
the  site  for  its  nest  along  country  rail  fences,  retired 
roads  bordering  wood  patches,  and  cavities  in  trunks  and 
stumps  in  the  woods. 

When  its  home  is  disturbed,  the  bluebird  displays  un- 
usual resolution  in  sharing  the  fate  of  its  household. 
Once  a  friend  and  myself  attempted  to  examine  a  cavity 
in  a  fence-post  near  a  stumpy  meadow.  A  female  bluebird 
was  sitting  upon  her  eggs  in  the  cavity,  and  she  per- 
sistently declined  to  leave  the  premises,  even  in  the  face 
of  the  threats  we  hammered  against  the  post.  By  en- 
larging the  cavity  we  were  able  to  reach  her  tail  with  our 
finger-tips,  but  she  clung  the  closer  to  her  nest,  until  she 
parted  with  several  of  her  tail  feathers,  and  we  desisted 
from  thus  marring  her  appearance.  Not  until  she  was 
lifted  from  the  eggs  did  she  flutter  to  escape.  Visiting  the 
nest  several  days  later,  we  saw  five  young  birds, 

"  *    *    wide-mouthed  to  every  shade 
By  which  their  downy  dream  is  stirred, 
Taking  it  for  the  mother  bird." 

Succeeding  observation  traced  their  rapid  growth  and 
departure  from  the  defaced  cavity,  and  their  lessons  in 
foraging  for  grasshoppers  among  the  stumps  of  the  pasture. 

This  elegant  and  highly  valuable  species  is  generally 
less  common  than  it  was  twelve  or  fifteen  years  ago.  The 
sparrows  have  appropriated  the  sites  formerly  used  by  the 
bluebirds,  until  it  is  exceptional  for  the  bluebirds  to  nest 
in  villages,  cities,  or  suburbs.  In  former  days  nearly 
every  suburban  orchard  had  one  or  more  pairs  of  blue- 
birds nesting  in  cavities  made  by  woodpeckers  in  the 
trunks  of  the  apple  trees;  but  the  ubiquitous  sparrows 
have  extended  their  range  even  to  the  orchards,  and  our 
friends  must  withdraw  to  the  country  and  woods  to  rear 
their  young  in  comparative  peace.  Along  the  railroads, 
in  the  earlier  part  of  the  summer,  they  usually  can  be 
seen  sitting  upon  the  telegraph  wires.  Upon  one's  ap- 
proach they  will  fly  to  a  perch  farther  along  the  wire,  or 
fly  around  to  a  position  behind  the  observer.  When  an 
insect  on  the  ground  attracts  their  attention,  they  fly 
to  the  ground,  secure  their  prey,  and,  after  a  momentary 
pause,  return  to  their  perch,  utteiMng  their  soft,  pleasing 


54  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

warble,  to  swallow  the  food  at  their  leisure.  Later  in  the 
season  they  resort  in  families  to  meadows,  pastures,  and 
stumpy  woodlands,  to  feed  on  the  grasshoppers,  crickets, 
and  other  insect  food  abundant  in  such  places. 

In  his  report  concerning  the  food  of  the  bluebird,  Prof. 
S.  A.  Forbes  states  that  seventy-eight  per  cent,  of  its  yearly 
food  consists  of  insects,  eight  per  cent,  of  spiders,  and  the 
remaining  part  principally  of  vegetable  food.  Other  ob- 
servers report  that  it  feeds  on  the  berries  of  the  black  and 
the  white  mulberry,  and  it  is  said  to  swallow  entire  fruits 
of  the  sour-gum  (Nyssd)  and  the  flowering  dogwood.  As 
great  numbers  of  seeds  of  the  poison  sumach  have  been 
found  in  its  stomach,  it  is  possible  that  the  bluebird  and 
other  birds  of  similar  food-habits  may  be  instrumental  in 
spreading  these  and  other  poisonous  plants. 

While  we  turn  our  ears  expectantly  at  the  breaking  of 
winter  to  catch  the  sweetly  plaintive  melody  of  this  hardy 
bringer  of  good  tidings,  we  are  no  less  eager  to  hear  the 
more  chastened  plaint  of  our  favorite  in  the  closing  days 
of  the  season.  Through  the  brown  summer  time  and  the 
tinted  autumn  period  we  have  almost  ceased  to  hear  the 
saddened  notes,  and  only  occasionally,  when  the  birds 
were  passing  overhead  at  early  morning,  were  the  tender 
warbles  dropped  like  benedictions  upon  us.  We  begin  to 
fear  that  an  untimely  blast  of  winter  will  presently  silence 
the  voices  heard  so  rarely,  and  we  select  a  typical  morning 
in  late  autumn  to  visit  the  woody  pasture  which  we  know 
to  harbor  the  few  remaining  individuals.  Robins  are  con- 
gregating in  the  trees  which  support  the  clambering  grape- 
vines, and  are  feeding  on  the  black  fruit.  Other  species 
are  visiting  the  stores  of  food,  or  whisking  about  in  the 
bushes,  uttering  their  farewell  calls  prior  to  their  de- 
parture southward.  The  clinking  notes  of  the  "  peabody 
birds,"  or  white- throated  sparrows,  and  the  clear  "ch- 
wink"  of  the  towhees  arise  from  the  brush.  From  the 
trees  come  the  sharp  salute  and  frequent  drumming  of  the 
woodpeckers.  But  dearer  to  our  ears  are  the  voices  which 
have  lured  us  afield  so  early,  as  they  float  down  from  the 
higher  regions,  and  we  see  the  forms  of  our  gentle  friends 
who  are  lingering  to  brighten  the  last  few  days  of  dying 
autumn.  Some  of  them  fly  over  us  high  in  the  air,  ap- 


House  Wren.  55 

prising  us  of  their  movements  by  their  few  short  warbles. 
Others  appear  in  the  summits  of  the  trees,  occasionally 
fluttering  to  a  lower  site  for  a  brief  time  in  their  pui'suit 
of  insects,  but  making  the  tree-tops  their  headquarters. 
Having  heard  their  charming  warbles  for  the  last  time, 
and  having  watched  their  movements  until  they  shift 
their  stations  from  our  view,  we  turn  our  steps  home- 
ward, knowing  that  when  the  invigorating  breezes  come 
from  the  southland  another  season  they  will  bear  upon 
their  bosoms  the  birds  which  drear  winter  drives  from 
our  midst, 

HOUSE    WEEN. 

The  lively  movements  of  the  house  wrens  give  a  higher 
degree  of  animation  to  the  scenes  of  the  orchard,  and  the 
little  busybodies  are  ever  attracting  our  attention  by 
whisking  about  the  trunks  and  branches,  and  entertaining 
us  with  their  constant  chatter.  Into  the  heaps  of  fallen 
brush  they  disappear,  and  through  the  interstices  they 
thread  their  restless  way.  At  our  approach  they  whir 
away  almost  from  under  our  feet,  scolding  energetically 
at  our  invasion  of  their  domains.  It  is  true  that  they 
utilize  the  nooks  and  crevices  of  outbuildings  for  their  habi- 
tations, but  they  are  quite  at  home  in  the  orchard,  and  we 
find  many  cavities  partially  filled  with  dead  sticks,  carried 
by  the  ever-active  males. 

There  are  very  few  persons  who  have  no  opportunity 
to  learn  something  from  observation  concerning  the  habits 
of  the  wren,  for  it  dwells  in  the  villages  and  cities,  and 
frequently  builds  its  trashy. nest  within  easy  reach.  It  is 
one  of  the  familiar  species,  and  with  the  robin  and  the 
bluebird  it  claims  a  generous  share  of  our  regard.  By  its 
cheerful,  gushing  songs  during  the  nesting  season,  by  its 
ceaseless  search  for  noxious  insects,  and  by  its  many  in- 
teresting traits,  it  fully  compensates  our  care  in  providing 
it  a  convenient  box  for  a  summer  home.  Its  activity  is 
remarkable,  and  we  can  not  fail  to  admire  its  familiarity 
and  fearlessness,  though  the  latter  often  leads  it  to  assail 
its  neighbors,  the  bluebirds  and  martins,  in  their  strong- 
holds, and  even  to  drive  them  from  their  homes  and  take 


56  Sketches  of  Sortie   Common  Birds. 

possession  of  the  premises.  We  are  accustomed  to  its  em- 
phatic scolding  and  its  agile  movements;  hence  we  are 
not  surprised  to  see  it  whisk  from  the  shrubbery  or  from 
beneath  the  sidewalk,  and  thence  disappear  around  a  tree- 
trunk  or  among  the  foliage  of  the  larger  trees.  Yet  any- 
where it  will  pour  forth  its  cheerful  gush  of  song,  regard- 
less of  one's  presence,  and  for  the  entertainment  of  no- 
body except  itself. 

The  house  wren  inhabits  eastern  United  States  and 
southern  British  Provinces,  ranging  westward  in  the 
north  to  the  Missouri  Eiver,  and  in  the  south  to  the  Great 
Plains,  being  migratory  in  the  northern  portions  of  its 
habitat,  and  breeding  throughout  its  range.  In  "Natural 
History  Survey  of  Illinois,"  Vol.  I,  .Robert  Ridgway  says: 
"  The  house  wren  is,  for  some  reason  or  another,  very  rare 
in  many  parts  of  southern  Illinois.  Indeed,  during  the 
writer's  residence  in  Wabash  County,  he  never  even  heard 
the  note  of  an  individual  of  this  species,  its  place  being 
taken  entirely  by  Bewick's  wren.  In  the  neighboring 
county  of  Richland,  however,  the  house  wren  is  not  un- 
common in  some  localities,  but  the  other  species  still 
largely  preponderates  in  numbers;  and  the  same  is  the  case 
in  Knox  County,  Indiana,  in  all  localities  where  the  writer 
has  been  able  to  make  observations.  To  the  northward 
the  present  species  gradually  increases  in  abundance, 
until  finally,  in  the  northern  counties  of  the  State,  the 
proportional  representation  of  the  two  is  reversed." 

On  their  return  from  the  South,  the  house  wrens  reach 
our  latitude  from  March  20th  to  April  12th,  the  males 
usually  appearing  in  advance  of  the  females.  As  is  notice- 
able when  the  sexes  travel  northward  separately,  the  in- 
dividuals that  arrive  earliest  are  less  vivacious  and  musi- 
cal than  when  the  presence  of  the  fair  sex  evokes  their 
best  manners  and  their  most  brilliant  execution  of  song. 
The  first  arrivals  seem  to  shun  the  society  which  they 
seek  several  weeks  later,  haunting  the  low  bushes  and 
shrubbery;  and  it  is  only  when  the  females  are  present  in 
numbers,  toward  the  latter  half  of  April,  that  both  sexes 
exhibit  their  full  sprigbtliness,  impudence,  restlessness, 
and  musical  ability. 

The  usual  nesting-places  of  the  house  wrens  are  nooks 


House  Wren.  57 

•and  cavities  in  buildings,  boxes,  tree-trunks,  stumps,  and 
fence  posts.  They  often  pile  their  trashy  material  be- 
tween a  window-sash  and  the  blinds,  entering  between  the 
shutters.  I  knew  a  pair  to  make  a  nest  in  an  old  tea-pot, 
which  hung  against  the  side  of  a  house,  under  a  large 
porch.  For  several  years  a  cavity  between  the  window- 
frame  and  the  brick  wall,  in  the  upper  story  of  a  public 
school  building,  was  transformed  into  a  convenient  home 
for  a  family  of  wrens,  the  entrance  being  too  small  to  ad- 
mit the  sparrows,  which  frequently  essayed  to  take  pos- 
session. A  pair  of  wrens  once  laid  claim  to  an  empty  shot 
sack  hanging  under  a  porch  of  a  farm-house,  and  refused 
to  be  dispossessed,  even  after  their  work  had  been  thrown 
out  twice  by  the  farmer's  wife.  They  finally  reared  a 
brood  in  the  third  nest  made  in  this  odd  eite.  Another 
pair  of  wrens  found  an  opening  into  a  bag  of  feathers 
hanging  in  a  porch,  and  in  tins  downy  retreat  reared  a 
brood  before  the  owner  discovered  the  intrusion. 

Cavities  about  porches,  mortise  holes  in  beams  of  barns 
and  out-buildings,  and  knot-holes  in  orchard  trees — in 
fact,  any  nook  whose  entrance  will  not  admit  the  house 
sparrows  that  might  attempt  to  take  up  a  prior  claim — 
may  be  chosen  by  the  wrens,  and  filled  with  dry  twigs, 
feathers,  gossamer,  and  dried  grass,  with  feathers  for 
lining.  Their  spirit  of  incessant  activity  prompts  them  to 
fill  other  cavities  near  their  homes  with  dry  sticks.  A 
pair  of  wrens  will  take  possession  of  several  boxes  put  up 
for  the  use  of  these  birds,  and  will  spend  some  time  in 
lugging  into  each  of  them  twigs  and  feathers,  though  only 
one  nest  will  be  finished  and  occupied.  Some  careful  ob- 
servers of  bird  ways  aver  that  the  male  continues  to  carry 
sticks  into  cavities  after  the  female  begins  to  incubate,  and 
thus  he  has  several  nests  in  process  of  construction.  A 
naturalist  friend  of  mine,  however,  who  seldom  makes  a 
mistake  in  observation,  asserts  that  the  male  begins  sev- 
eral nests  in  different  sites;  and  when  proposing  to  his 
fair  one,  he  invites  her  to  inspect  his  different  properties; 
and  if  any  of  them  pleases  her  fancy,  she  accepts  his  pro- 
posal, and  the  pair  take  up  housekeeping  in  the  favored 
location. 

The  complement  of  eggs  varies  from  six  to  nine.     The 


58  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

eggs  have  dots  of  brown  and  reddish,  often  distributed  so 
evenly  as  to  give  the  impression  of  these  colors,  though  the 
ground  color  is  lighter.  The  nesting  season  is  frequently 
prolonged  into  August,  as  two  and  three  broods  are  regu- 
larly reared  each  season. 

The  best  songs  of  the  wren  are  probably  heard  after  the 
birds  are  happily  mated  and  the  female  has  begun  to  de- 
posit her  eggs.  Then  the  happy  male  whirs  to  a  favorite 
station,  usually  on  the  gable  at  the  extremity  of  the  ridge- 
pole of  a  house  or  an  out-building,  and  there,  with  tail 
nearly  vertical  aud  bead  thrown  back,  he  expresses  the 
overflowing  happiness  of  his  lot.  The  song  is  a  merry 
little  roundelay — a  forcible,  voluble  gush  of  hurried  con- 
tentment. The  performer  does  not  remain  long  in  one 
place,  however,  and  soon  jerks  himself  along  the  ridge- 
pole, or  down  the  gable  side,  or  flies  into  the  lower 
branches  of  a  neighboring  tree,  where  he  chatters  with 
vigor  as  he  whisks  himself  in  and  out  of  view  among  the 
foliage.  Now  he  is  on  the  ground,  hopping  among  the 
dried  leaves  and  shrubbery,  or  rummaging  under  a  pile  of 
old  rails,  and  turning  up  in  the  most  unexpected  places. 
From  roof  to  tree,  from  tree  back  to  roof,  from  roof  to  the 
ground,  in  and  out  of  the  bushes,  he  is  ever  on  the  move, 
seemingly  busy,  but  seldom  carrying  to  completion  any  of 
his  plans.  He  is  perfectly  at  home  among  the  stems  of  the 
weeds  in  the  pastures,  and  he  clings  to  the  culms  with  the 
agility  of  his  relatives,  the  marsh  wrens. 

Quite  in  contrast  to  the  custom  of  many  of  our  feathered 
neighbors,  the  wren  does  not  cease  to  utter  his  measures 
of  happiness  after  the  cares  of  home  and  offspring  begin 
to  curtail  his  leisure  time.  He  waits  upon  his  mistress, 
brooding  upon  her  speckled  treasures,  as  merrily  and  gal- 
lantly as  he  courted  her,  and  never,  after  carrying  her  a 
choice  morsel,  does  he  leave  her  without  going  to  a 
favorite  perch  and  hurriedly  chattering  his  heartfelt  satis- 
faction. Not  until  he  has  escorted  his  youngsters  to  the 
hedges  and  weed  patches,  and  taught  them  to  earn  their 
livelihood,  does  he  cease  to  give  outward  expression  to  his 


One  fortunate  summer  a  pair  of  wrens  established  them- 
selves in  a  cavity,  about  twelve  feet  from  the  ground,  in  a 


House  Wren.  59 

maple  tree  near  my  study  -window.  I  have  said  it  was  a 
fortunate  summer,  but  I  might  with  more  propriety  say- 
that  I  was  fortunate,  for  my  willing  ears  were  regaled, 
early  and  late,  with  the  ringing  roundelays  of  the  happy 
householders.  The  regularity  of  the  merry  measures  soon 
taught  me  to  miss  them  if  the  interludes  were  prolonged 
by  some  capricious  movements  of  the  songsters  that  kept 
them  from  their  favorite  stations.  The  voice  of  the  male 
was  extraordinarily  clear  and  vibrant,  and  his  regular 
practicing,  added  to  the  increasing  delights  of  his  matri- 
monial life,  daily  gave  more  finish  to  his  execution  and 
power  of  song.  At  the  threshold  of  his  feather-lined 
home  he  regularly  chanted  a  delightful  measure  before  he 
disappeared  through  the  tiny  entrance.  Scarcely  bad  he 
whirred  from  its  portal  upon  his  departure  ere  he  rang  bis 
tuneful  round.  If  ever  a  tree  of  that  dimension  became 
vocal  with  the  performances  of  its  feathered  tenants,  that 
old  maple  was  given  over  to  the  spirit  of  song,  the  restless 
musician  being  indeed  the  fairy  which  gave  animation  to 
the  sturdy  form  until  it  seemed  to  whisper  words  of  in- 
spiration to  passers-by.  Like  the  wood  pewee,  the  indigo 
bunting,  the  chipping  sparrow,  and  others  of  the  birda 
that  protract  the  nesting  season,  the  house  wren  becomes 
more  melodious  as  its  embryonic  brood  develops  and 
thrives,  and  its  loving  service  in  behalf  of  its  family  is 
accompanied  by  more  powerful  and  expressive  measures  of 
unalloyed  happiness. 

"When  the  young  wrens  have  been  taught  tho  practical 
art  of  insect-catching,  they  resort  to  the  woods  and  hedges, 
frequenting  high  weeds,  bushes  along  streams,  and  thick- 
ets of  any  sort.  "Walking  along  a  hedge  with  dense  foliage, 
late  in  summer  or  early  in  autumn,  one  may  remark  the 
wrens  whisking  silently  in  and  out,  and  diving  suddenly 
into  the  weeds  and  bushes.  If  the  adults  are  not  rearing 
additional  broods,  they  also  can  be  found,  in  company  with 
their  offspring,  scolding,  with  characteristic  captiousness, 
at  the  disturbers  of  their  privacy  and  woodland  foraging. 
Their  merry  rounds  of  melody  are  over  for  the  summer, 
and  in  this  manner  they  wait  for  the  time  when  instinct 
will  lead  them  to  warmer  climes  for  their  winter's  sojourn. 

The   wren    is    almost    exclusively   insectivorous,   and 


60  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

spiders  and  thousand-legs  make  up  the  balance  of  its  bill 
of  fare.  It  is  especially  fond  of  canker-worms,  and  its 
presence  in  the  orchard  can  be  accounted  for  when  these 
pests  are  abundant.  We  see  that  the  horticulturist  has  an 
indefatigable  ally  in  the  person  of  this  diminutive  worker. 
Not  only  among  the  trees,  but  among  the  bushes  also, 
where  noxious  insects  are  at  work  destroying  the 
growth  of  the  various  fruits  in  their  seasons,  we  can 
trace  the  valuable  services  of  the  wren.  Destructive  larvae 
of  moths  and  butterflies,  gnats  and  flies,  ants,  beetles,  and 
bugs — especially  the  dreaded  chinch-bugs — all  are  regu- 
larly found  in  the  bill  of  fare  of  our  active  little  friend. 
When  the  farmer  evicts  the  wren  from  his  porch  or  well 
framework,  because  he  objects  to  the  litter  of  sticks 
dragged  to  the  place,  he  is  driving  away  an  ally  with 
whose  services  he  can  not  well  dispense. 


CHICKADEE. 

Another  diminutive  resident  of  the  orchard,  scarcely 
larger  than  the  house  wren — a  veritable  hop-o'-my- 
thumb — is  the  chickadee,  or  black-capped  titmouse.  Per- 
haps no  bird  is  a  more  common  favorite  among  lovers  of 
bird-life,  its  trustfulness  and  love  of  companionship  being 
so  great  that  it  rarely  fails  to  approach  the  observer  when 
its  plaintive  "pee- wee"  is  imitated.  Especially  in  the 
fall  and  winter  is  it  easily  called  by  these  syllables, 
whistled  with  the  first  considerably  lengthened,  and  any 
schoolboy  whistler  can  easily  catch  the  spirit  of  the  call. 
I  remember  an  occasion  when  I  was  leaving  my  home  to 
go  to  the  public  square  of  my  native  village,  I  heard  the 
notes  of  a  chickadee  half  a  block  away,  and  immediately 
responded  to  the  call,  repeating  it  as  I  passed  along  the 
street.  Soon  the  little  fellow  was  after  me,  and  at  one 
time  perched  on  alow  twig  of  a  small  maple,  so  close  that 
1  involuntarily  put  out  my  hand  to  touch  him.  He  fol- 
lowed me  until  I  passed  upon  the  busier  thoroughfare,  and 
only  ceased  to  follow  when  I  discontinued  my  call. 

Once  upon  a  frosty  morning,  when  I  was  on  my  way  to 
the  school  building  where  my  vocation  called  me,  I  heard 


Chickadee.  61 

the  call  of  a  lonesome  chickadee  issuing  from  a  small  tree 
in  an  adjoining  yard.  Though  I  could  not  at  once  per- 
ceive the  author  of  the  notes,  I  vigorously  and  regularly 
whistled  in  response.  Soon  the  call  was  uttered  nearer  to 
me,  and  as  I  passed  on  my  way  the  little  creature  flitted 
from  tree  to  tree  after  me.  When  I  reached  the  school 
grounds,  I  stopped  under  a  small  tree,  and  in  response  to 
my  whistling  the  confiding  wanderer  flew  into  the  tree, 
hopping  joyfully  from  twig  to  twig,  in  hopeful  anticipa- 
tion of  congenial  companionship.  Soon  I  ceased  to  re- 
spond to  his  friendly  good-mornings,  and  walked  away 
from  the  tree.  At  once  he  changed  his  tone  to  a  sweet 
minor,  so  expressive  of  disappointment  and  loneliness  that 
fellow  teachers  who  had  witnessed  the  closing  scenes  im- 
mediately noted  the  sudden  modulation,  and  censured  me 
with  the  remark:  "Why,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
yourself  to  mislead  the  lonely  little  fellow,  when  he  ex- 
pected to  find  a  companion.  Just  hear  how  disappointedly 
he  calls!  " 

Birds  come  and  go,  but  the  chickadee  we  have  always 
with  us.  No  blast  is  severe  enough  to  drive  it  from  our 
door-yards,  and  in  the  face  of  the  falling  snow  its  "  dee- 
dee-dee-dee-dee  "  comes  to  our  ears  as  we  sit  in  our  cozy 
rooms  longing  for  the  spring  sunshine.  Even  on  those 
dreariest  of  rainy  winter  days,  whose  steady  drizzle 
would  be  supposed  to  check  the  activity  of  even  the  most 
venturesome  of  the  feathered  residents — days  whose  dull- 
ness causes  us  to  con  our  old  note-books  in  memory  of 
brighter  scenes — we  hear  the  merry  "  chickadee  purrt " 
of  our  undaunted  little  visitant.  Hastening  to  the  window, 
we  see  him  in  a  near  apple  tree,  clinging  head  downward 
and  tail  up,  as  he  pulls  a  lurking  tidbit  into  the  light  and 
quickly  devours  it.  Wiping  his  bill  upon  the  dripping 
branch,  he  chatters  his  satisfaction,  and  then  hops  to  a 
neighboring  limb  to  continue  his  search  for  a  dinner  and 
supper  combined.  He  then  flits  across  the  tree,  and  per- 
haps back  to  the  nearer  side,  occasionally  uttering  his 
bright  ditty — always  contented,  come  rain,  come  snow, 
and  consequently  always  joyous. 

While  the  chickadees  are  essentially  birds  of  the  wood- 
land, they  are  by  no  means  rare  in  our  towns;  for  trees 


62  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

and  shrubbery  are  the  only  requisites  of  the  neighbor- 
hoods they  frequent.  Almost  every  orchard  has  its  pair 
of  these  valuable  birds.  They  are  permanent  residents, 
and  can  generally  be  seen  at  any  season  hopping  about  in 
oar  garden  trees  and  in  our  door-yards,  stripping  the 
trees  of  insects,  and  searching  in  all  likely  places  for  food 
morsels,  now  and  then  chattering  their  "  ohick-a-dee-dee- 
dee-dee-dee."  They  have  a  noticeable  habit  of  hopping 
"  right-about,"  flirting  their  tails  and  perking  their  heads 
in  accompaniment  to  their  single  "dee,"  as  their  quick 
movements  carry  them  from  one  portion  of  the  tree  to 
another. 

The  habitat  of  the  chickadee  is  northeastern  North 
America,  extending  westward  to  the  great  plains,  and 
southward  through  the  Middle  States.  In  Illinois  the 
range  of  the  chickadee  seems  to  be  limited  to  the 
northern  half  of  the  State,  for  it  is  known  only  as  a  winter 
visitor  in  the  southern  part,  or  below  the  thirty-ninth 
parallel,  and  coming  only  at  irregular  intervals  in  very 
cold  weather,  according  to  Eobert  Eidgway.  In  the 
southern  parts  of  the  State,  however,  is  the  Carolina 
chickadee,  very  similar  in  coloration  and  habits,  and 
differing  only  in  its  smaller  size. 

In  its  food  habits  no  bird  renders  more  valuable  service 
to  man  in  checking  the  spread  of  noxious  insects  than  the 
active,  diminutive  chickadee.  The  destructive  canker- 
worm  forms  a  large  part  of  its  yearly  rations,  and  few 
birds  scan  the  bark  of  trees  so  closely  for  eggs  and  larvte 
hidden  there,  eating  away  the  life  of  their  host.  Its 
service  for  us  continues  through  the  year,  nor  does  it  ex- 
act in  return  any  portion  of  the  ripening  fruit,  but  con- 
fines its  diet  largely  to  insects,  with  a  few  seeds,  and  the 
scanty  gleanings  from  our  door-yards  in  winter. 

In  central  Illinois  the  chickadee  begins  to  nest  early  in 
April.  It  apparently  considers  that  its  valuable  services 
can  be  dispensed  with  at  this  season,  for  it  does  not  regu- 
larly remain  about  the  gardens  and  town  to  rear  its 
young.  Among  deeper  woods  and  in  more  secluded  lo- 
calities it  finds  the  environments  suited  to  its  disposition, 
and  there  it  establishes  its  summer  home,  seeking  its  food 
near  its  domicile,  and  seldom  visiting  the  village  or  city 


Chickadee.  63 

until  its  young  are  fully  able  to  cope  with  the  realities  of 
life.  One  or  more  families  will  certainly  be  found 
dwelling  within  the  limits  of  the  farm  orchard.  How- 
ever, the  chickadee  is  not  fond  of  the  society  even  of  its 
own  kind  in  the  nesting  season,  and  displays  no  spirit  of 
community  in  choosing  its  home. 

There  are  occasional  instances  of  its  nesting  among  busy 
scenes.  Once  I  was  agreeably  surprised  to  chance  upon  a 
chickadee  industriously  boring  a  hole  in  a  fence-post 
along  the  street  where  1  passed  every  day  as  I  walked  to 
my  work.  Though  the  outer  layers  of  the  wood  in  the 
post  were  rather  firm,  the  inner  part  was  less  tough,  and 
the  small,  sharp,  conical  bill  of  the  determined  little 
laborer  was  making  surprising  headway  in  excavating  the 
desired  site.  I  marked  the  progress  of  the  work  with  in- 
creasing interest,  and  four  times  a  day  I  would  quietly  in- 
spect the  latest  improvements  in  the  forming  cavity.  In 
less  than  a  week  the  fastidious  taste  of  the  master  builder 
was  satisfied,  and  the  happy  pair  proceeded  to  take  pos- 
session, though  they  loitered  several  days  after  the  ex- 
cavation was  finished  before  they  moved  in  their  effects 
and  began  housekeeping  in  earnest.  Their  newly-found 
joy  was  short-lived,  however;  for  scarcely  had  the  first 
egg  been  deposited  ere  the  prying  eyes  of  small  boys  in 
the  neighborhood  fell  upon  the  exposed  portal.  On  my 
next  visit  I  found  the  nest  torn  out  and  the  excavation 
wrecked — a  sad  warning  to  all  chickadees  and  other  birds 
which  place  their  trust  unreservedly  in  humanity. 

The  mother  chickadee  has  a  strong  love  for  her  home, 
and  she  will  usually  remain  with  her  treasures  even  to 
her  own  hurt.  One  summer  I  was  spending  a  day  in 
early  May  in  the  woods,  and  chanced  to  stroll  into  a  piece 
of  swampy,  dense  timber  bordering  a  creek.  A  cavity  in 
a  low,  decayed  stump  attracted  my  attention,  and  I 
tapped  vigorously  below  the  small  circular  entrance,  to 
frighten  and  drive  out  any  occupant  of  the  recess,  but  no 
chickadee  appeared  in  response  to  my  knocking.  The 
stump  was  so  badly  decayed  that  my  thumping  on  the  ex- 
terior caused  the  wood  dust  to  drop  from  all  sides  of  the 
cavity  into  the  bottom.  Deciding  that  the  woody  tene- 
ment was  not  occupied — for  the  season  was  almost  past 


64  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

for  a  chickadee  to  be  rearing  a  family — I  tore  away  the 
bark  near  the  entrance,  in  order  to  examine  the  premises. 
When  I  uncovered  the  recess  sufficiently  to  admit  the  light, 
I  saw  a  pair  of  bright  eyes  directed  upward,  and  the  head 
of  a  chickadee  projecting  from  the  rubbish  which  fairly 
covered  her  body.  She  was  nearly  smothered  with  the 
dusty  material  which  had  fallen  on  her,  and  was  sputter- 
ing the  disagreeable  stuff  from  her  mouth  and  nostrils. 
I  gently  removed  the  debris  from  about  her,  and  not  till 
then  did  she  start  from  her  furry  bed,  whereon  lay  four 
eggs,  glossy  white  under  their  reddish  specks.  Eepairing 
the  damage  somewhat,  by  cleaning  out  the  fallen  dust  and 
replacing  the  bark  which  had  covered  the  recess,  I  left  the 
spot  with  the  mournful  and  appealing  "dee"  of  the 
anxious  parent  coining  to  my  ears.  At  a  suitable  distance 
I  watched  the  mother  bird  hopping  about  the  premises, 
gradually  neai-ing  her  outraged  home,  until  she  finally 
flitted  into  the  recess,  and  there  I  left  her,  feeling  that 
such  maternal  devotion  deserved  more  than  ordinary 
consideration. 

Any  suitable  cavity  in  a  stump,  post,  branch,  or  tree- 
trunk  may  be  appropriated  as  a  nesting  site,  usually  one 
made  by  the  downy  woodpecker  or  the  white-breasted 
nuthatch  in  the  preceding  autumn  or  winter.  If  no  suit- 
able hollow  is  found,  the  chickadee  excavates  one  to  its 
liking.  Like  the  bluebird,  it  may  be  found  nesting  in 
hollow  fence-posts  along  railroads.  The  cavity  is  com- 
monly about  six  inches  deep.  The  nests  are  made  of  fine 
hair,  several  that  I  have  examined  being  made  entirely  of 
rabbit  fur,  arranged  into  a  cozy  bed.  Fine  dried  grass, 
moss,  feathers,  and  fibers  are  also  available  materials  for 
this  little  builder.  The  eggs  number  from  six  to  eight, 
and  are  white,  sprinkled  with  reddish  brown.  Davie  says 
their  average  size  is  .57  by  .47  of  an  inch. 

Our  readers  who  are  not  familiar  with  the  appearance 
of  the  chickadee  can  identify  it  by  its  ashy  gray  back  and 
the  ashy  gray  or  whitish  abdomen,  and  more  directly  by 
its  black  crown,  chin,  throat.  Its  length  is  about  five  and 
one-fourth  inches,  with  an  extent  of  wing  of  about  eight 
inches. 


Kingbird.  65 


KINGBIBD. 

Few  birds  are  better  known  to  the  boys  and  girls 
whose  homes  are  amid  rural  surroundings,  than  the  noisy 
and  pugnacious  kingbird.  The  orchard  is  his  little 
kingdom,  and  over  it  he  exerts  a  regal  sway.  With  most 
of  his  subjects  he  is  roughly  good-natured,  but  he  is 
extremely  jealous  of  his  prerogatives,  and  does  not  hesitate 
to  support  his  pretensions  with  a  goodly  show  of  force. 
Trespassers  upon  his  territory  are  caused  to  regret  their 
temerity,  especially  those  which  insolently  depend  upon 
their  superior  size  for  immunity  from  his  attacks.  Few 
enemies  of  his  are  so  large  that  they  can  dismay  this  bold 
defender  of  his  domains,  and  his  impetuous  assault  is 
certain  to  overwhelm  either  hawk,  crow,  owl,  blue  jay,  or 
other  evil-minded  intruder  upon  his  claimed  limits. 

The  kingbird  prefers  to  fight  on  the  defensive.  Seeing 
an  approaching  enemy,  he  sallies  forth  from  his  watch- 
tower  in  the  summit  of  an  apple-tree,  and  engages  in 
battle  in  mid-air.  Quickly  gaining  an  advantage  by 
mounting  above  the  unlucky  crow  or  hawk,  he  fiercely 
dashes  downward  upon  the  back  or  head  of  his  adver- 
sary ;  and  striking  with  his  stout,  sharp  bill,  flutters  away 
and  upward  to  continue  the  attack.  The  intrepidity  and 
sharpness  of  his  attack  are  likely  to  dishearten  even 
bolder  birds  than  those  he  usually  quarrels  with,  and  the 
result  of  the  encounter,  if  such  a  one-sided  affair  can 
rightly  be  called  by  that  name,  is  seldom  in  doubt  for 
even  a  moment.  He  does  not  commonly  attack  his 
enemy  at  rest,  nor  does  he  often  pursue  the  object  of  his 
animosity  very  far,  being  satisfied  when  he  has  driven 
the  offender  beyond  the  limits  of  the  orchard  or  yard  in 
which  the  kingbird  has  taken  up  his  quarters. 

The  pugnacity  of  the  kingbird  is  accounted  for  by 
most  writers  on  the  ground  of  strong  maternal  instinct. 
My  observations,  however,  lead  me  to  say  that  his  over- 
bearing spirit  is  apparent  at  all  times.  Late  in  the 
summer,  when  the  nesting  season  had  passed,  I  once  saw 
a  kingbird,  which  was  seated  on  a  telegraph  wire,  mali- 
ciously attack  a  robin  that  alighted  on  a  wire  more  than 
5 


66  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

a  hundred  feet  distant  from  him.  The  robin  retreated 
along  the  wire  and  alighted  at  a  greater  distance  from 
the  aggressor;  but  the  overbearing  disposition  of  the 
latter  prompted  him  to  make  another  unprovoked  and 
unnecessary  attack  upon  the  unoffending  robin,  and 
drive  her  squeaking  loudly  over  the  bordering  meadow. 
Once  in  August  a  kingbird  that  was  perched  on  the  tele- 
graph wire  ahead  of  me  audaciously  attacked  a  young 
red-headed  woodpecker  not  yet  in  permanent  colors, 
which  alighted  on  a  pole  near  the  tyrant,  and  quickly  put 
the  astonished  youngster  to  flight,  pursuing  it  viciously 
over  an  adjoining  lot. 

It  may  be  true  that  the  kingbird  has  hereditary  ene- 
mies which  he  attacks  at  sight,  but  he  seems  to  rank 
naturally  with  tyrants  and  pugilists.  He  will  certainly 
defend  his  home  and  family  with  boldness  and  spirit,  but 
he  is  also  a  tyrannous  fellow  for  mere  love  of  tyranny, 
and  his  reputation  should  be  whitewashed  by  no  excuses. 
He  is  too  suspicious  of  the  intentions  of  his  neighbors, 
and  often  might  avoid  a  quarrel  by  quietly  attending  to 
his  own  affairs.  Once  in  the  conflict,  however,  his  reck- 
less daring  and  invincible  spirit  are  worthy  of  admiration, 
and  to  his  credit  it  may  be  said  that  his  battles  are  usu- 
ally with  the  larger  birds  and  the  known  enemies  of  his 
more  helpless  fellows.  The  birds  which  he  attacks  are 
generally  known  to  harry  the  nests  of  the  smaller  birds, 
and  the  kingbird  frequently  saves  the  homes  and  families 
of  many  residents  of  the  orchard  by  thus  driving  away 
felonious  bird-tramps  before  they  even  enter  the  premises. 

The  harsh  notes  and  twittering  cries  of  the  kingbird 
are  doubtless  as  familiar  to  the  residents  of  the  rural 
districts  as  the  bird  itself.  It  has  no  real  song,  since  it 
lacks  the  singing  apparatus  with  which  the  Oscines  pro- 
duce their  musical  tones.  However,  it  utters  a  short 
series  of  forcible  sounds,  forming  a  loud,  sharp  twitter, 
without  which  no  orchard  would  be  complete  and  which 
is  not  really  unpleasant,  though  it  has  the  element  of 
harshness  possessed  by  all  the  utterances  of  the  clamato- 
rial  birds.  These  twittering  expressions  of  its  emotions 
are  uttered  by  the  bird  when  seated  on  any  favorite 
perch  watching  for  passing  prey,  or  when  on  the  wing, 


Kingbird.  67 

and  are  heard  chiefly  in  the  mating  and  breeding  season. 
Its  notes  are  fewer  and  less  forcible  after  the  home  circle 
is  broken,  and  the  youngsters  become  independent  mem- 
bers of  avian  society. 

The  kingbirds  are  fond  of  telegraph  wires  along  rail- 
roads, from  which  they  can  dash  out  to  secure  insects 
whirring  through  the  air.  Summits  of  small  trees,  and 
especially  the  tops  of  vervain  and  mullein  stalks  in 
pastures,  give  them  commanding  points  from  which  to 
await  the  appearance  of  their  prey.  In  taking  their  food 
in  the  air  they  usually  fly  outward  and  upward,  often 
twenty  or  thirty  feet,  and  return  with  it  to  the  same  or  a 
similar  perch.  They  feed  chiefly  on  insects,  taken  almost 
exclusively  on  the  wing.  Their  popular  titles  of  "  bee 
bird  "  and  "  bee  martin  "  suggest  that  they  are  respon- 
sible for  the  decrease  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  apiary; 
but  they  probably  have  no  special  relish  for  bees,  and  in 
their  behalf  Dr.  Elliott  Coues  says  that  they  destroy  a 
thousand  noxious  insects  for  every  bee  they  eat.  The 
apiarian  can  certainly  afford  to  keep  a  few  additional 
hives  of  bees  for  the  use  of  these  birds  alone,  in  return 
for  their  preservation  of  the  blossoms  and  flowers  by  the 
destruction  of  insect  pests. 

Mr.  Samuels,  in  his  "  Birds  of  New  England,"  speaks 
thus  on  this  subject :  "  The  food  of  the  kingbird  consists 
mostly  of  insects,  which  he  captures  usually  while  on  the 
wing.  It  seems  a  provision  of  nature,  that  all  the  fly- 
catchers shall  only  take  those  insects  that  have  taken 
flight  from  the  foliage  of  trees  and  shrubs,  at  the  same 
time  making  the  warblers  and  other  birds  capture  those 
which  remain  concealed  in  such  places.  The  kingbird, 
in  seizing  a  flying  insect,  flies  in  a  sort  of  half  flitting 
hover,  and  seizes  it  with  a  sharp  snap  of  the  bill.  Some- 
times he  descends  from  his  perch,  and  captures  a  grass- 
hopper that  has  just  taken  a  short  flight,  and  occasionally 
seizes  one  that  is  crawling  up  some  tall  stalk  of  grass. 
Those  farmers  who  keep  bees  dislike  this  bird,  because  of 
his  bad  habit  of  eating  as  many  of  those  insects  as  show 
themselves  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  nest;  but  they 
should  remember  that  the  general  interests  of  agriculture 
are  greater  than  those  of  a  hive  of  bees." 


68  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

The  kingbird  is  a  summer  resident  in  eastern  North 
America,  ranging  to  about  fifty-seven  degrees  north  lati- 
tude, and  westward  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  irregu- 
larly in  northwestern  United  States.  Its  winter  home  is 
in  tropical  regions,  including  the  Bahamas  and  Cuba, 
and  extending  southward  to  Bolivia.  It  reaches  central 
Illinois  about  the  twentieth  of  April  or  a  little  later, 
announcing  its  return  to  the  orchard  by  its  squeaky, 
twittering  cries,  and  at  once  resumes  its  accustomed  place 
as  a  long-absent  sovereign.  At  this  season  of  the  year  it 
can  be  seen  very  frequently  in  pastures  having  bunches 
of  weeds  on  which  it  can  perch,  rising  repeatedly  with  its 
rapid  twitter  in  pursuit  of  its  food.  Thus  it  dallies  for 
several  weeks  before  it  prepares  for  the  stern  duties  of 
nidification  and  incubation. 

The  situation  of  the  nest  is  generally  an  upright  fork 
in  the  main  portion  of  the  tree,  near  the  top,  high  trees 
being  seldom  chosen  in  which  to  build,  unless  along 
water-courses  where  smaller  trees  are  not  available.  The 
construction  of  the  nest  is  a  work  involving  much  con- 
tention and  conversation  between  the  pair  of  builders, 
and,  as  is  usual  in  such  instances,  the  female  does  most  of 
the  work  and  the  male  most  of  the  talking.  The  nest  is 
made  of  coarse  materials,  such  as  weed  stems,  fibrous 
roots  and  bark,  rags,  strings,  feathers,  and  other  soft 
material,  with  finer  rootlets  and  stems  for  lining.  The 
complement  of  eggs  numbers  from  three  to  five.  Their 
ground  color  is  white  or  creamy  white,  and  they  are 
spotted  irregularly  and  brightly  with  large  blotches  and 
markings  of  umber  and  chestnut.  Davie  gives  their 
average  size  as  .97  by  .70  of  an  inch. 

Most  of  the  birds  that  are  disposed  to  be  imperious 
among  their  neighbors  are  seen  to  be  patterns  of  amia- 
bility and  tenderness  in  their  home  lives.  We  have  else- 
where referred  to  the  conjugal  affection  noticeable  in  the 
private  life  of  the  shrike.  The  meekness  and  patience  of 
the  kingbird  in  its  home  are  in  striking  contrast  to  its 
irritability  among  its  neighbors.  Is  it  possible  that  our 
tyrant  is  a  hen-pecked  husband,  and  that  his  overbearing 
disposition  is  over-matched  by  that  of  his  high-spirited 
dame?  Surely  not,  for  his  faithful,  affectionate  service 


Kingbird.  69 

for  her  could  not  be  prompted  by  such  an  unwortny  mo- 
tive. If  ho  is  a  good  hater  of  his  imaginary  enemies,  he 
is  an  equally  ardent  lover,  and  his  jealous  attendance 
upon  her  in  the  time  of  nest-building  springs  mainly 
from  the  depth  of  his  passion.  Few  heads  of  families  in 
the  orchard  colony  are  more  faithful  in  caring  for  the 
wants  of  their  callow  broods,  and  his  upward  dashes  in 
pursuit  of  insects  are  more  energetic  and  vigorous  from 
the  paternal  love  animating  his  every  movement.  Over 
the  meadow  he  gleans  with  greater  earnestness  to  procure 
the  tidbits  his  nestlings  fancy,  and  in  their  first  lessons  in 
tyrannical  ways  he  exhibits  the  tender  devotion  of  the 
most  loving  bird  parent. 

Why  the  kingbird  should  have  been  invested  with 
royal  attributes  by  some  one  in  the  distant  past  is  not 
clear.  As  we  have  said,  he  does  seem  to  rule  over  his 
orchard  domains,  but  it  is  only  a  dominion  of  might. 
ISTor  is  he  an  uncrowned  monarch ;  for  when  he  becomes 
jealous,  and  sallies  out  to  repel  any  trespassers,  he  dis- 
plays his  royal  insignia — a  low  crownlet  encircling  a 
hidden  pompon  of  orange-red — and  thus  he  seems  to  have 
some  natural  ground  for  his  pretensions.  As  he  is  usually 
victor  in  the  sharp  encounters  which  ensue  upon  his 
fierce  sallies,  his  title  may  rest  upon  the  pugilistic  cham- 
pionship which  it  seems  that  he  has  fairly  earned.  How- 
ever, wise  men  have  sanctioned  his  claim  to  the  title,  and 
it  might  be  unbecoming  in  us  to  derogate  from  his  kingly 
honors.  Yet  in  his  generic  name  of  Tyrannus  they  have 
recognized  his  tyrannical  disposition;  not  once,  but 
twice,  for  he  must  be  named  Tyrannus  tyrannus,  which 
undoubtedly  makes  him  the  tyrant  tyrant.  Yet  we 
remember  that  in  the  time  of  the  ancient  Grecians  there 
were  tyrants  who  were  thus  styled  because  they  obtained 
and  held  their  power  illegally,  though  some  of  them  ruled 
wisely  and  well.  Shall  we  not  thus  define  the  term 
which  characterizes  this  petty  sovereign?  And  when  we 
have  occasion  to  employ  the  term  in  connection  with  the 
kingbird,  let  us  consider  it  in  its  primitive  meaning,  and 
thus  our  charity  will  in  this,  as  in  all  other  instances, 
cover  a  multitude  of  sins. 


70  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 


BKONZED    GKACKLE. 

None  of  the  residents  of  the  orchard  is  more  abundantly 
represented  or  more  noticeable  in  its  vocalism  and  move- 
ments than  the  bronzed  grackle,  or  blackbird.  The  family 
Icteridce,  with  which  the  bronzed  grackle  is  connected,  is 
eminently  noted  for  its  showy  and  handsome  species,  or 
for  the  otherwise  attractive  characteristics  of  its  members. 
It  contains  the  sub- families  of  the  so-called  American 
starlings,  the  so-called  orioles,  and  the  so-called  grackles 
or  crow-blackbirds,  each  group  mentioned  having  been 
accorded  a  conspicuous  place  in  literature  or  in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  naturalist.  The  bronzed  grackle  is  by  no 
means  unworthy  a  place  in  the  notable  gathering  in- 
cluding the  Baltimore  and  orchard  orioles,  the  meadow 
lark,  the  bobolink,  and  their  well-known  allies.  Its  habits, 
however,  are  apparently  inimical  at  times  to  the  interest 
of  the  farmer  and  gardener,  and  have  done  much  to 
render  unpopular  a  species  which  in  form  and  appearance 
is  little  inferior  to  the  most  gifted  of  its  relatives.  Its  oc- 
casional havoc  in  the  growing  crops  and  among  the  ripen- 
ing fruit  has  caused  the  farmer  to  overlook  the  valuable 
services  of  the  grackle  at  the  time  when  its  assistance  is  in- 
dispensable. Thus  the  grackle  has  been  brought  into  bad 
repute,  and  it  is  disliked  and  persecuted  in  consequence. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  the  persecution  it  receives  from  various 
sources,  the  number  of  individuals  has  not  apparently  les- 
sened, and  every  recurring  fall  the  usual  long  flocks  can 
be  seen  flying  to  their  accustomed  roosting-places. 

In  my  boyish  days,  the  coming  of  the  bronzed  grackles 
after  the  breaking  of  winter  filled  me  with  delight,  for  I 
learned  to  regard  them  as  the  surest  heralds  of  the  ap- 
proaching spring.  Scarcely  had  the  snow  disappeared 
from  the  fields,  and  the  first  faint  hues  of  green  tinged  the 
warmer  knolls  and  dryer  spots  of  the  meadows,  ere  the 
first  groups  of  grackles  took  possession  of  the  tops  of  the 
maples,  and  announced  their  arrival  in  their  loud  but  not 
unmusical  quiscaline  jargon.  I  loved  to  hear 

"  *    *    the  blackirds  clattrin'  in  tall  trees, 
An*  settlin'  things  in  windy  Congresses"— 


Bronzed  G-rackle.  71 

a  familiar  proceeding  in  the  movements  of  the  grackles. 
The  bluebirds,  song  sparrows,  robins,  and  meadow  larks 
were  the  only  migrants  which  preceded  the  bronzed 
grackles,  and  were  frequently  driven  back  temporarily  by 
cold  blasts.  The  grackles,  however,  seemed  more  weather- 
wise,  and  hence  I  eagerly  watched  their  coming. 

At  my  home  in  central  Illinois,  the  grackles  have  ap- 
peared as  early  as  the  17th  of  February,  though  we  com- 
monly notice  the  first  migrants  about  the  end  of  the  first 
week  of  March.  They  are  not  long  in  settling  themselves 
in  their  regular  resorts,  and  thenceforth  their  noisy  de- 
monstrations are  part  of  the  ordinary  life  of  the  locality. 
They  are  at  home  in  the  tall  maples  along  the  streets  of 
the  towns,  in  the  evergreen  trees  of  the  lawns  and  gar- 
dens, and  in  the  groves  and  orchards  of  rural  districts. 
The  woods  and  groves  of  the  bottom  lands  along  the 
rivers  become  their  popular  resorts,  and  the  willow 
borders  of  the  streams  and  swamp-lakes  are  usually  well 
populated  by  the  noisy  creatures.  Their  gregarious 
nature  is  observable  even  in  their  nesting  habits,  and 
wherever  circumstances  are  favorable  they  may  be  found 
nesting  in  colonies  containing  hundreds  of  homes. 

The  ubiquity  of  the  grackles  is  naturally  due  to  their 
varied  accomplishments  and  many-sided  character.  They 
take  as  kindly  to  the  water  as  the  sandpipers,  their 
elongated  feet  and  tarsi  giving  them  facility  of  movement 
in  the  shallow  water  of  the  margins  of  creeks,  rivers,  and 
lakes.  I  have  seen  them  standing  and  wading  in  the 
clear  water  of  shallow  ripples,  dexterously  catching  the 
foolish  minnows  that  sported  within  reach  of  their  long, 
strong  bills.  There  rises  before  me  a  picture  of  a  woody 
glen,  shaded  upon  one  side  by  an  overhanging  wall  of 
rock,  along  whose  base  there  purled  a  shallow  streamlet. 
This  glen  was  indeed  a  haunt  for  the  grackles  and  my- 
self, and  many  pleasant  hours  have  I  spent  watching 
the  dignified  fishers  as  they  stalked  through  the  ripples 
with  quiet,  leisurely  movements.  Every  wide-awake  boy 
of  the  farm  knows  that  the  grackles  which  he  surprises 
along  the  muddy  margin  of  the  little  pond  in  the  pasture 
are  there  for  business,  and  not  merely  for  pleasure ;  and 
he  will  further  inform  you  that  the  crayfish  which  lie  in 


72  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

the  hollows  along  the  margin  have  allured  the  grackles 
thus  to  add  to  their  larder,  though  they  go  home  at  night- 
fall with  muddy  feet  and  bedraggled  plumage. 

Good,  experienced  woodsmen,  too,  are  the  grackles.  No 
small  boy  is  more  familiar  with  the  resources  of  the 
woods,  and  even  he  is  unable  to  pick  nuts  from  the  ex- 
tremities of  the  twigs  like  the  agile  grackles.  They  also 
know 

"  Where  the  freshest  berries  grow, 
Where  the  groundnut  trails  its  vine, 
Where  the  wood-grape's  clusters  shine." 

And  hence  we  find  them  clattering  as  volubly  and  living 
as  bountifully  in  the  woodlands  as  in  the  swamps — equally 
at  home  in  the  farm  orchard  and  in  the  city  streets. 

The  early  spring  life  of  the  grackles  is  well  known  to 
the  boys  and  girls  of  the  farm  and  country  towns.  They 
are  frequent  foragers  about  the  corn-crib  and  the  barn- 
yard, and  they  procure  much  of  their  living  from  the 
open  fields  and  meadows,  making  the  trees  about  the 
orchard  the  scenes  of  noisy  and  garrulous  gatherings. 
They  are  extremely  sociable,  and  evidently  prefer  a 
voluble  chat  with  several  of  their  companions  to  the 
duties  of  replenishing  their  larder.  However,  they  are 
seldom  pushed  to  supply  their  wants,  as  their  regular  food 
is  obtained  with  little  effort.  In  their  nesting-places  they 
seem  to  spend  very  little  time  in  incubating,  and  are 
doubtless  upon  their  nests  only  enough  to  insure  the  safety 
of  the  eggs,  visiting  from  one  tree-top  to  another,  and 
calling  with  their  loud  metallic  notes  to  their  friends 
about  them. 

We  ornithologists  are  inclined  to  smile  at  the  some- 
what pompous  actions  of  the  male  cowbirds  in  executing 
their  shrill  whistles  in  the  springtime.  The  male  grackles 
would  appear  no  less  ridiculous  in  their  efforts  to  vocalize 
their  grating  phrases  through  their  seemingly  rusty  pipes, 
were  their  appearance  less  splendid  and  their  air  less 
serious  and  dignified.  They  begin  their  calls  with  a 
clear,  rather  sweet  note;  but  their  vocal  cords  seem  to  be- 
come lax  or  thickened  in  the  midst  of  the  exclamations. 
To  finish  the  performance,  they  puff  out  their  feathers, 
slightly  spread  their  wings,  and  partly  expand  their  tails, 


Bronzed  Grackle.  73 

seeming  to  lift  themselves  somewhat  on  their  perch,  and 
by  these  efforts  they  force  the  remaining  two  notes  of  the 
phrase  to  successful  issue. 

The  grackles  visit  the  path  of  the  plowman  in  the  early 
spring,  gleaning  from  the  field  ahead  of  him,  and  search- 
ing the  furrow  in  his  wake  for  the  grubs  and  larvae  un- 
covered with  the  rich  loam.  Their  visits  to  the  corn- 
fields are  not  discontinued  after  the  plowing,  however; 
and  in  their  eagerness  to  secure  the  lurking  enemies  of 
the  tender  blades,  the  grackles  have  been  accused,  per- 
haps with  justice,  of  swallowing  the  sprouting  grains  of 
corn  they  frequently  uproot.  It  should  be  said  in  their 
behalf  that  they  only  occasionally  uncover  the  sprouting 
grain,  and  that  it  is  done  in  pursuit  of  noxious  insects, 
which  would  in  their  turn  destroy  many  grains  of  corn. 
Any  trivial  injuries  done  in  this  manner  by  the  grackles 
are  so  overwhelmingly  overbalanced  by  their  destruction 
of  insect  pests  that  they  are  certainly  entitled  to  what- 
ever occasional  grains  of  corn  they  incidentally  swallow. 
Their  depredations  in  the  standing  crop  later  in  the 
season,  however,  admit  of  active  measures  against  them  at 
that  time. 

The  nesting  habits  of  the  grackle  are  supposed  to  be 
generally  known;  but  I  once  had  a  grown-up  companion 
who  had  never  seen  nest  or  eggs  of  this  species  until  I 
pointed  out  the  interesting  object  on  a  visit  to  an  orchard. 
A  large  grove  of  osage  orange  trees  near  my  home  was 
a  favorite  haunt  for  a  colony  of  these  birds,  and  so 
numerous  were  the  nests  that  several  were  frequently 
found  in  one  tree,  though  some  of  the  trees  contained 
none.  In  almost  every  orchard  where  the  birds  are  com- 
paratively undisturbed,  each  tree  will  be  found  to  contain 
several  nests.  In  the  bottom  woodlands,  where  the  stand- 
ing water  has  deadened  and  decayed  many  of  the  trees, 
the  grackles  occupy  the  natural  and  artificial  cavities  in 
these  hollows,  even  when  living  trees  with  inviting 
crotches  are  near  at  hand. 

Groves  or  yards  of  evergreen  trees  attract  the  grackles; 
and  as  the  tops  of  these  trees  hold  the  nests  without 
giving  the  builders  much  trouble  in  attaching  the  struc- 
tures, the  coniferous  trees  are  certain  to  be  populated  by 
them,  whether  in  cemeteries  or  lawns,  in  town  or  country. 


74  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

The  grackles  are  early  in  their  nidification,  beginning 
about  the  middle  of  April.  In  1882  I  observed  a  pair  of 
birds  working  on  a  nest  on  the  9th  of  April.  This  was 
exceptionally  early,  however.  The  grackles  are  very 
leisurely  in  their  work,  the  female  assuming  the  lion's 
share  of  the  undertaking,  while  the  male  carries  a  few 
burdens  and  assists  his  better  half  by  his  presence  and 
noise,  and  jealously  guards  the  premises  against  the  passing 
robins  and  other  intruders. 

The  nests  in  the  osage  grove  above  mentioned  were 
made  entirely  of  coarse  dried  grass,  lined  with  a  finer 
quality  of  the  same  material.  In  the  bottom  lands  the 
walls  of  the  structure  are  frequently  formed  of  damp, 
muddy  grasses,  giving  the  nest  the  appearance  of  having 
mud  walls,  and  sometimes  the  sides  contain  a  large 
amount  of  mud.  Where  the  material  can  be  obtained,  the 
grackles  work  small  bunches  of  wool  into  the  walls, 
especially  when  there  is  mud  used  in  the  habitation.  All 
sorts  of  trash  are  used  in  the  nest,  such  as  stalks  of  hay, 
bunches  of  string,  and  rags,  the  foundation  of  the  nest 
being  generally  coarse  pieces  of  muddy  hay  stems,  and  the 
lining  soft  dried  grass. 

The  site  of  the  nest  is  variable,  and  may  be  a  horizontal 
branch,  or  a  fork  in  an  upright  branch,  or  between  up- 
right stems,  with  no  support  except  the  friction  between 
its  sides  and  the  surrounding  limbs.  The  nests  are  found 
in  low  and  high  situations,  varying  from  six  to  thirty 
feet  from  the  ground,  the  majority  of  them  being  about 
fifteen  feet  from  the  surface.  JDaviesays  that  the  eggs  are 
light  greenish  or  smoky  blue,  with  irregular  lines,  dots, 
blotches,  and  scrawls  distributed  over  the  surface.  The 
average  complements  vary  from  four  to  five  eggs,  though 
sometimes  six  eggs  are  found  in  one  nest.  The  eggs  of 
the  grackle  average  1.20  by  .82.  In  1895  I  found  a  set 
of  five  eggs  of  the  grackle  which  were  singular  in  their 
coloration.  They  were  so  closely  marked  with  rusty 
blotches  that  the  entire  ground  color  was  obscured,  and 
the  eggs  were  of  a  color  resembling  faded  stains  of  blood, 
mottled  with  varying  intensity.  I  have  frequently  seen 
single  eggs  of  the  grackle  thus  colored,  but  I  have  never 
seen  another  set  so  uniformly  and  so  oddly  marked. 


Bronzed   Grackle.  75 

It  is  at  the  close  of  the  nesting  season  that  the  gregarious 
habits  of  the  grackle  are  most  manifest.  Each  little  family 
attaches  itself  to  a  larger  company,  and  immense  flocks  are 
formed  by  the  consolidation  of  all  parties  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. These  larger  hosts  occasionally  break  up  into 
several  smaller  divisions,  as  their  food  habits  call  them 
apart  to  supply  their  needs.  In  the  bottom  regions  of  the 
Illinois  Eiver,  along  the  shores  of  the  swamp-lakes,  I  have 
seen  flocks  numbering  many  thousands  settle  to  forage 
among  the  reeds  on  the  moist,  dried  ground.  When  they 
were  startled  in  flight  by  the  report  of  a  gun,  or  by  other 
causes,  the  roar  of  their  wings  could  be  heard  plainly 
across  the  lake,  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  then 
frequently  only  a  part  of  the  flock  would  take  wing  at 
one  time.  These  large  flocks  assemble  chiefly  at  night- 
fall, and  are  the  combined  forces  in  the  surrounding 
region ;  for  the  numbers  are  augmented  as  night  approaches 
by  new-comers  which  settle  among  the  others  feeding  in 
the  swamp.  The  presence  of  an  available  food-supply  is 
the  chief  factor  in  the  formation  of  these  flocks;  for  where 
their  food  in  season  is  widely  and  uniformly  distributed, 
the  extraordinary  flocks  are  not  seen.  The  bronzed 
grackles  alone  do  not  compose  these  immense  hosts;  for 
other  migrating  blackbirds,  such  as  the  red-winged 
species,  the  rusty  blackbird,  and  Brewer's  blackbird,  swell 
the  hordes  preparing  to  return  to  their  southern  winter 
homes. 

In  the  prairie  regions  of  central  Illinois  the  grackles  re- 
main generally  until  the  middle  of  October,  and  in  fact 
until  the  severe  weather  sets  in,  and  they  are  frequently 
seen  in  small  troops  in  the  early  half  of  November,  when 
the  weather  has  not  been  unfavorable.  In  the  late  fall 
they  frequent  the  woods  along  the  water-courses  and  the 
edges  of  ponds.  "When  many  are  seated  in  the  top  of  » 
large  forest  tree,  their  loud  metallic  notes,  uttered  in  con- 
fusing time,  form  a  pleasant  jingling  medley.  Now  and 
then  some  particularly  gifted  performer  excites  our  ad- 
miration. Though  the  performance  of  one  bird  has  been 
described  as  being  somewhat  harsh,  when  a  number  of  in- 
dividuals are  practicing  in  confused  medley  the  effect  is 
rather  pleasing  than  otherwise. 


76  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

The  grackle  possesses  a  fine  form,  showy  plumage,  and 
is  a  splendid  bird  in  appearance,  though  the  colors  of  the 
female  are  less  metallic  and  more  modest  than  the 
brilliantly  bronzed  male  in  the  vernal  season.  Walking 
on  the  ground,  he  is  staid  and  dignified,  and  seldom  loses 
his  gravity  of  manner  or  presence  of  mind.  He  is  never 
hurried  in  his  movements,  and  will  even  take  his  time 
about  stepping  out  of  the  way  when  he  is  foraging  ahead 
of  the  approaching  horses  of  the  plowboy.  Were  it  not 
for  the  general  prejudice  against  the  grackle,  he  would  be 
found  to  discover  many  traits  which  we  prize  in  other 
species,  for  he  is  an  ornament  to  the  garden  and  orchard 
and  the  shade  trees  of  the  street  and  lawn.  His  metallic 
luster  shows  in  vivid  contrast  to  the  foliage  green,  and  in 
the  apple-tree,  laden  with  fragrant  blossoms,  is  as  cheering 
and  pleasing  as  the  yellow  of  the  warbler,  or  the  rich 
colors  of  other  species  we  greet  with  unrestrained  praise. 

The  food  habits  of  the  grackle  have  done  so  much  to 
bring  the  species  into  bad  repute  that  I  take  the  liberty 
of  quoting  from  the  Keport  on  the  "Crow  Blackbirds  and 
their  Food,"  published  in  the  Year  Book  of  the  United 
States  Department  of  Agriculture  for  1894.  The  author, 
F.  B.  L.  Beal,  says:  "In  the  selection  of  food,  the  crow 
blackbird  is  almost  omnivorous.  Its  partiality  for  corn, 
wheat,  rice,  oats,  and  other  grain  is  well  known,  and  is 
the  cause  of  nearly  all  the  complaints  about  its  depreda- 
tions. This  diet  is  supplemented  by  various  fruits, 
berries,  nuts,  seeds,  and  insects — the  latter  in  large  pro- 
portions. But  the  character  of  the  food  varies  materially 
with  the  season.  During  the  fall  and  winter,  blackbirds 
subsist  largely  on  seeds  and  grain;  as  spring  approaches 
they  become  more  insectivorous;  in  summer  they  take 
small  fruits;  and  in  September  they  attack  the  ripening 
corn;  but  all  seasons  they  undoubtedly  select  the  food 
that  is  most  easily  obtained. 

"To  this  varied  diet  are  due  the  conflicting  statements 
respecting  the  useful  or  noxious  habits  of  the  species. 
When  feeding  on  grain,  the  birds  are  usually  in  large 
flocks,  their  depredations  are  plainly  visible,  and  they  are 
almost  universally  condemned.  When  breeding,  they  are 
less  gregarious,  and  the  good  work  they  do  in  the  fields  is 


YOUNG   ORCHARD   ORIOLE. 

From  life.    After  Shufeldt. 


Orchard  Oriole.  77 

scarcely  noticed,  although  at  this  season  the  grubs  and 
other  insects  devoured  compensate  in  large  measure  for 
the  grain  taken  at  other  times. 

*  ^  *  *  *  * 

"Upon  the  whole, crow  blackbirds  are  so  useful  that  no 
general  war  of  extermination  should  be  waged  against 
them.  While  it  must  be  admitted  that  at  times  they  in- 
jure crops,  such  depredations  can  usually  be  prevented. 
On  the  other  hand,  by  destroying  insects,  they  do  in- 
calculable good." 


OKCHAKD   OEIOLE. 

Among  the  gay  spirits  whose  voices  predominate  in  the 
orchard  medley  is  one  whose  ringing  notes  have  a  familiar 
meaning,  yet  the  lack  of  fullest  richness  and  expression 
tells  us  that  we  must  not  look  for  the  brilliant  "fire-bird" 
of  the  Indians  as  the  author  of  the  music  now  floating  to 
our  ears.  The  tall  maples  and  elms  along  the  streets  and 
in  the  dooryards  have  more  attractions  for  the  dashing 
Baltimore  oriole  than  he  can  resist,  and  he  seldom  resorts 
to  the  orchard  to  swing  his  pouch  of  felt,  and  only  oc- 
casionally to  gossip  with  his  more  modest  and  less  as- 
suming relative.  Yet  there  is  little  need  of  the  gay, 
splendid  bearer  of  the  fiery  brand  to  give  animation  to 
orchard  bird-life  while  the  orchard  oriole  possesses  so 
many  attractive  qualities,  and  only  differs  from  the  former 
in  its  less  vivacious  manners  and  less  brilliant  dress.  It 
is  not  strange  that  so  many  indifferent  persons  have 
neglected  to  form  the  acquaintance  of  the  orchard  oriole, 
since  the  similarity  of  its  notes  to  the  eloquence  of  the 
gayer  oriole  adds  to  the  likelihood  of  confusing  the  two 
species.  However,  if  the  two  orioles  are  studied  sepa- 
rately, each  in  its  chosen  resorts,  the  differences  between 
the  two  will  become  apparent,  and  it  will  be  found  that 
we  have  two  orioles  claiming  our  attention  and  friend- 
ship, each  supplementing  instead  of  supplanting  the  other 
in  our  affections. 

The  orchard  oriole  has  been  appropriately  named,  for 
it  seems  to  be  more  at  home  in  the  orchard  than  in  other 


78  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

resorts.  However,  it  has  some  traits  of  the  Bohemian, 
and  frequently  visits  the  elms  and  other  trees  of  the  door- 
yard  where  the  Baltimore  oriole  has  taken  prior  claim, 
though  it  seldom  tarries  long,  and  ever  appears  to  be  in  a 
hurry.  Like  its  more  brightly  attired  congener,  it  loves 
to  linger  among  the  willows  and  other  trees  which  shade 
the  banks  of  the  smaller  water-courses.  It  generally  fre- 
quents trees  of  lower  height  than  its  relative,  and  rarely 
swings  its  grass-woven  home  in  the  tops  of  the  high 
maples  and  elms,  as  does  the  Baltimore  oriole  at  times. 
Its  movements  are  in  strong  contrast  to  the  leisurely 
actions  of  the  Baltimore  oriole,  for  everywhere  it  assumes 
a  nervous,  hurried  air,  both  on  the  wing  and  among  the 
leaves  and  twigs.  Note  its  restlessness  as  it  hops  from 
twig  to  twig,  or  takes  short  flights  from  one  branch  to 
another  in  gleaning  its  insect  food  from  the  buds  and 
tender  foliage.  Its  movements  in  clinging  head  down- 
ward in  its  efforts  to  reach  a  tempting  morsel  remind  us 
that  many  of  the  warblers  have  the  same  habit.  Swinging 
thus  momentarily  from  the  extremity  of  twig  or  branch, 
it  utters  the  sweet  song  which  contains  suggestions  of  the 
notes  of  the  Baltimore  oriole,  the  robin,  and  the  rose- 
breasted  grosbeak;  its  lyrics,  however,  are  inferior  to  the 
rich,  full  eloquence  of  the  first  and  last  mentioned  species, 
and  are  more  expressive  than  the  carols  of  the  robin  in 
their  greater  fervor  and  continuity. 

The  birds  belonging  to  the  family  Icteridos  are,  for  the 
most  part,  noticeable  in  their  habit  of  singing  while  on 
the  wing,  and  the  orchard  oriole  is  no  exception  to  the 
rule.  When  nearing  a  perch,  he  begins  to  overflow  with 
melody  long  suppressed,  and  pours  forth  his  notes  so 
rapidly  that  they  seem  to  crowd  one  upon  another  and  be- 
come confused  in  their  execution.  The  lively  disposition 
of  the  songster  discovers  itself  in  the  joyous  character  of 
the  notes  gushing  so  ecstatically  from  the  vibrating 
throat,  and  we  intuitively  note  the  difference  between  this 
expression  of  happiness  and  the  loud,  rich  plaint  of  the 
Baltimore  oriole.  As  the  merry  melody  of  the  orchard 
oriole  comes  to  our  ears,  we  are  charmed  with  the  rapidly 
enunciated  arias,  and  quickly  turn  our  eyes  to  follow  the 
form  of  the  musician  hurrying  to  a  position  among  the 


Orchard  Oriole.  79 

twigs  in  the  outer  part  of  an  apple  tree.  Kestlessly 
searching  amid  the  foliage  for  lurking  tidbits,  he  repeat- 
edly gives  expression  to  his  satisfaction  by  executing  his 
hurried,  gushing  measures. 

As  an  architect  and  builder  the  orchard  oriole  deserves 
no  less  commendation  than  the  more  commonly  praised 
Baltimore  oriole.  Though  its  nest  is  not  so  long  and 
pendulous  as  the  wind-swayed  pouch  of  the  latter,  and 
contains  little  variety  in  the  list  of  materials  used,  its 
neatly  woven  walls  and  handsomely  rounded  form  show 
the  work  of  a  master  hand,  and  claim  a  place  of  honor 
beside  the  best  efforts  of  the  better  known  oriole.  The 
nest  is  not  often  situated  in  the  drooping  twigs  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  tree,  especially  when  the  tree  selected  is 
in  the  orchard.  The  commonest  site  marks  about  one- 
third  of  the  space  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  the  foliage, 
or  is  among  branches  whose  extremities  are  about  one- 
third  of  the  distance  from  the  apex  of  the  tree  to  its  base, 
considering  the  tree  a  cone.  The  grassy  tenement  is 
commonly  suspended  between  upright  twigs,  attached  by 
its  brim,  so  that  it  sways  gently  at  its  base,  but  does  not 
swing  as  easily  as  the  nest  of  the  Baltimore  oriole.  It  has 
the  shape  of  a  sphere  between  four  and  five  inches  in 
diameter,  with  the  upper  fourth  removed.  Its  walls  are 
constructed  almost  entirely  of  a  sort  of  long  wiry  grass, 
woven  in  and  out  in  a  most  ingenious  manner.  The  grass 
selected  has  a  peculiar  property  of  retaining  its  greenness 
for  a  long  period,  though  it  becomes  somewhat  bleached 
in  time;  hence  the  affair  is  rather  difficult  to  discover 
among  the  fresh  foliage  of  the  tree.  Our  little  friend  en- 
joys a  soft  bed,  however,  and  sometimes  there  are  found 
small  bits  of  downy  or  cottony  material  woven  here  and 
there  in  the  structure,  though  there  is  no  regularity  in  the 
disposition  of  this  substance.  This  oriole  does  not  exhibit 
the  variations  in  its  work  that  are  noted  in  the  nests  of 
the  Baltimore  oriole.  The  complement  of  eggs  consists  of 
four,  five,  and  sometimes  six,  and  the  eggs  have  a  bluish- 
white  ground,  with  irregular  spots,  blotches,  and  lines  of 
various  shades  of  brown.  Usually  the  markings  are 
thin  and  sparse,  developing  in  prominence  about  the 
larger  end.  The  eggs  measure  from  .70  to  .85  of  an  inch 
in  length,  and  from  .50  to  .62  in  width. 


80  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

The  orchard  oriole  belongs  to  the  eastern  United  States, 
ranging  westward  to  the  edge  of  the  great  plains,  and 
northward  to  the  southern  parts  of  Ontario.  Its  breeding 
range  extends  southward  to  the  Eio  Grande.  It  leaves 
the  United  States  to  pass  the  winter  in  Mexico,  Central 
America,  Cuba,  and  adjacent  regions.  On  its  return  from 
the  south  it  travels  more  leisurely  than  its  more  noted 
relative,  and  reaches  central  Illinois  generally  several 
days  later  than  the  date  on  which  the  Baltimore  oriole  ap- 
prises us  of  his  advent.  On  its  arrival  it  evinces  its 
pleasure  in  greeting  familiar  scenes  by  its  loud,  nervous 
song.  It  never  appears  here  before  the  last  week  of 
April  or  the  first  week  of  May,  as  it  has  no  delight  in  bare 
branches  and  dull  skies,  and  must  await  the  unfolding  of 
the  buds  and  blossoms  of  the  orchard  and  garden  trees. 

The  male  is  very  noticeable  because  of  his  frequent 
song  and  hurried  movements,  both  on  the  wing  and 
among  the  vernal  clothing  of  the  trees  he  frequents.  The 
female,  however,  attracts  less  attention,  for  she  has  a 
shyer  disposition,  and  her  dress  is  dull  when  compared 
with  the  showy  apparel  of  her  sprightly  spouse.  The  at- 
tractive black  velvet  in  his  robe  is  represented  by  plainer 
olive  and  brown  in  her  gown;  and  the  chestnut-brown 
which  adorns  his  under  parts,  by  greenish-yellow  in  her 
corresponding  parts;  and  she  seems  to  have  no  time  for 
the  apparently  frivolous  engagements  of  her  restless  hus- 
band, but  spends  her  time  more  judiciously  in  attending 
to  her  household  duties.  However,  the  male  does  not 
neglect  his  duties  to  his  wife  and  family,  if  he  does  love 
to  hurry  about  the  neighborhood  in  his  important  manner. 
A  large  part  of  his  time  is  spent  in  finding  choice  tidbits 
for  the  family  table,  and  much  of  his  nervousness  is  mani- 
fested while  seeking  dainties  for  his  quiet  wife  in  her 
snug  and  tidy  home. 

If  the  bobolink  has  a  counterpart  in  vivacity  and  volu- 
bility among  our  Western  birds,  it  is  surely  the  orchard 
oriole.  In  our  walks  over  meadows,  we  see  this  rollick- 
ing oriole  clinging  to  the  stems  of  the  vervains,  scolding 
in  a  jingle  no  less  jingling  than  the  fluent  outbursts  of 
the  bobolink.  Now  he  rises,  uttering  his  hurried  notes 
in  confusing  time  and  in  loud,  eager  manner,  and  away 


Orchard  Oriole.  81 

he  goes  to  another  weed-stem,  pouring  out  the  strains  of 
confused  melody  as  he  flies.  Not  long  does  he  swing  on 
the  swaying  stems,  however ;  and  now  he  is  up  and  flut- 
tering over  the  top  of  the  high  hedge  bordering  the 
meadow,  singing  as  he  nears  the  perch  and  continuing 
the  scolding  song  as  he  balances  near  the  tip  of  an  up- 
right branch.  As  we  stroll  along  the  higher  hedges, 
whose  long  horizontal  boughs  droop  over  and  form  shady 
ai-chways  under  which  we  can  walk  with  ease,  the 
orchard  oriole  cackles  over  our  heads  and  flutters  fpom 
place  to  place,  ever  noticeable  and  ever  prodigal  of  his 
music.  In  the  orchard  he  is  especially  at  home,  and  what 
the  bobolink  is  to  the  meadow,  this  oriole  is  to  the  or- 
chard, shifting  into  the  tree  above  us  with  flowing  melody 
and  curving  away  almost  before  he  is  fairly  settled  and 
we  have  fastened  our  eyes  upon  him.  Even  in  town,  he 
is  the  same  gay-spirited,  rollicking  fellow,  loudly  an- 
nouncing his  joys  from  tree  to  tree  in  the  garden  and 
along  the  highway,  tarrying  only  long  enough  to  excite 
our  interest,  and  then  hastening  to  another  audience,  but 
leaving  a  trail  of  delightful  music  in  his  wake. 

It  was  my  fortune  to  become  familiar  with  the  orchard 
oriole  before  I  learned  much  of  the  life  of  the  resplen- 
dent Baltimorean,  for  the  latter  kept  beyond  my  boyish 
circle  of  avian  friends,  exciting  my  admiration  always, 
but  never  coming  within  satisfactory  distance,  and  thus 
seeming  to  elude  my  closer  study.  In  my  rambles 
through  the  orchard,  I  soon  learned  the  ways  of  the 
orchard  oriole,  and  I  derived  more  satisfaction  from  the 
study  of  its  manners  than  from  my  passing  acquaintance 
with  the  black-and-orange-liveried  resident  of  the  door- 
yard.  I  found  my  friend  no  less  abundant  along  the 
wooded  banks  of  the  little  creek  where  I  went  fishing  in 
my  early  days;  and  the  gushing  ecstasy  of  the  cheerful 
musician  touched  a  responsive  chord  in  my  heart,  awak- 
ened to  the  delightful  voices  of  nature.  In  the  towns  and 
suburban  gardens  the  voice  of  the  orchard  oriole  can  be 
heard,  and  there  it  frequently  establishes  its  home, 
though  it  will  not  suffer  repeated  persecution  and  is 
easily  driven  from  any  chosen  resort.  Its  fluttering 
form,  clad  in  black  and  ornamented  .with  reddish  chest- 


82  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

nut,  is  a  pleasant  feature  of  the  orchard  and  garden 
scenes,  and  its  insectivorous  diet  renders  it  a  desirable 
dweller  about  the  premises  of  the  horticulturist.  We 
regret  that  the  greater  fame  and  more  splendid  plumage 
of  the  gay  cavalier  bearing  the  colors  of  Lord  Baltimore 
have  caused  the  orchard  oriole  to  receive  less  recognition 
than  it  merits,  and  we  trust  that  in  future  it  will  receive 
its  share  of  popular  recognition. 


KED-HEADED  WOODPECKER. 

What  a  frolicsome  crew  are  the  lively  red-headed  wood- 
peckers !  And  how  variable  are  their  moods !  At  one 
time  a  solitary  individual  may  be  heard  deliberately  tap- 
ping in  pursuit  of  a  breakfast,  or  may  be  detected  silently 
dodging  our  observation  around  a  branch  or  tree  trunk  ; 
at  other  times  they  troop  from  tree  to  tree  in  noisy 
trios  or  quartets,  making  the  orchard  or  grove  to  resound 
with  their  loud,  jarring  notes,  as  we  have  seen  the  dem- 
onstrative blue  jays  flit  among  the  tree  tops  in  early 
spring.  Indeed,  the  woodpeckers  are  nothing  if  they  are 
not  noisy;  and  whether  at  work  or  play,  they  must  give 
utterance  to  their  sharp,  unmodulated  calls.  In  their 
voluble  exclamations  and  versatile  manners,  the  red- 
headed woodpeckers  remind  us  very  forcibly  of  excited 
Frenchmen;  and  to  carry  the  comparison  a  point  further, 
they  ostentatiously  wave  their  tricolored  combination  of 
red,  blue-black,  and  white  as  they  follow  or  accompany 
one  another,  all  earnestly  and  loudly  uttering  their  scold- 
ing cries.  An  extended  acquaintance  with  the  red-headed 
woodpeckers,  however,  will  convince  one  that  these  birds 
are  more  nearly  typical  of  the  true-born  Yankee,  despite  s 
their  occasional  garrulity  and  their  affectation  of  the ' 
showy  tricolor.  In  fact,  we  can  see  our  own  red,  white, 
and  blue  (black)  in  the  crimson  of  their  head  and  throat; 
the  white  of  the  secondaries,  abdomen,  and  other  parts; 
and  the  deep  blue  black  of  the  shoulders  and  back.  After 
all,  perhaps  we  were  hasty  in  our  fancied  comparison  of 
these  shrewd,  enterprising  creatures  to  our  foreign  neigh- 
bors, since  we  need  not  go  beyond  our  own  borders  to 


Red-headed    Woodpecker.  83 

find  the  originals  of  their  crafty,  independent  character. 
How  much  we  should  miss  in  the  absence  of  these  hand- 
some, rollicking  creatures  from  our  orchards  and  groves! 
No  vibrant  tapping  on  resounding,  seasoned  branches! 
No  amusing  inspection  of  our  movements  from  behind 
intervening  stubs!  No  merry  clatter  and  noisy  demon- 
stration by  playful  groups  among  the  gnarled  trunks! 
No  flashing  combinations  of  crimson,  black,  and  white 
through  the  somber  light  of  the  orchard !  No  display  of 
the  clever,  original  versatility  which  renders  these  birds 
unique  among  the  orchard  residents!  These  and  other 
features  of  orchard  bird  life  would  be  lacking,  and  hence 
much  of  the  charm  and  fascination  of  the  orchard. 

The  red-headed  woodpeckers  are  well  known  through- 
out the  eastern  United  States  and  British  provinces. 
They  are  common  westward  to  the  eastern  base  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  southward  to  the  gulf.  They  are 
said  to  be  rare  in  New  England.  Robert  Ridgway  re- 
ports that  they  are  permanent  residents  in  the  southern 
portions  of  our  State,  and  that  they  are  even  more  abun- 
dant in  winter  than  in  summer.  He  also  states  that 
sometimes  (probably  very  rarely)  they  make  a  complete 
migration,  which  is  very  difficult  to  account  for.  These 
woodpeckers  are  regularly  migratory  in  this  section, 
about  39°  20',  and  their  disappearance  in  the  fall  and 
their  advent  in  the  spring  are  as  erratic  and  variable  in 
time  as  other  phases  of  their  behavior.  I  have  known 
them  to  return  to  us  as  early  as  February  llth,  and  again 
to  delay  their  arrival  until  the  24th  of  April.  The  last 
week  of  April  generally  finds  them  scattered  over  their 
accustomed  haunts — the  groves,  orchards,  woods,  lines  of 
telegraph  poles,  isolated  trees,  and  prairie  rail  fences — in 
fact,  any  resorts  affording  them  food  and  something  upon 
which  to  drum.  Even  the  trees  along  the  traveled  thor- 
oughfares of  the  cities  and  in  the  parks,  as  well  as  in  rural 
localities,  supply  the  conditions  congenial  to  their  tastes, 
and  hence  they  thrive  as  well  amid  the  bustle  of  com- 
merce as  in  the  retired  depths  of  the  forest.  Indeed,  their 
fertility  of  resource  in  supplying  their  larder  and  their 
versatility  of  manners  render  them  more  pliable  in  their 
dispositions  than  the  other  species  of  woodpeckers,  and 


84  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

they  seem  at  home  amid  extremely  varying  environ- 
ments. 

The  red-headed  woodpeckers  form  a  circle  of  their  own 
in  the  orchard  society ;  for  while  they  do  not  resent  the 
proximity  of  other  species,  or  do  not  object  to  passing  a 
remark  with  any  good-natured  neighbor  who  desires  to 
exchange  the  news  of  the  day,  they  prefer  to  be  left  to 
their  rhythmic  tapping,  or  else  to  frolic  with  their  own 
kind.  Indeed,  their  independence  of  the  other  species 
resident  in  their  resorts  is  rather  remarkable.  Their 
sports  and  quarrels  are  quite  among  themselves,  and  no 
doubt  their  noisy  antics  are  regarded  as  extremely  scan- 
dalous by  the  sedate  bluebirds  and  knightly  robins.  In 
/act,  Mrs.  Kobin  frequently  descends  from  her  mud  hovel 
in  the  crotch  of  the  trunk  about  which  the  revelers  are 
frolicking  and  proceeds  to  squeak  her  opinion  of  such 
actions.  Her  disturbers,  however,  show  only  indifference 
.  to  the  opinions  of  their  neighbors,  and  continue  their 
play  at  hide-and-seek  around  the  trunks  and  among 
branches,  their  demonstrations  sometimes  assuming  the 
appearance  of  angry  contention.  In  these  social  wran- 
gles they  never  come  to  actual  blows,  like  the  robins  in 
their  bloodless  battles  in  midair,  but  usually  choose  sta- 
tions on  opposite  sides  of  some  convenient  stub  or  branch, 
around  which  they  can  dodge  as  their  enemy,  rival,  or 
companion  hops  into  view  in  pursuit,  without  caring  ap- 
parently to  overtake  the  leader.  The  flight  of  one  of  the 
trio  or  quartet  is  a  signal  for  the  others  to  give  chase,  all 
calling  noisily  in  the  jarring  tones  mentioned,  and  on  ad- 
jacent stubs  and  trunks  they  again  alight  and  rest  for  a 
time,  sometimes  drumming  as  an  interlude  to  their  rol- 
licking sport.  These  noisy  gambols  of  the  red-headed 
woodpeckers  have  their  counterpart  in  the  duels  and  tri- 
angular conflicts  of  the  robins  on  the  lawn  and  among 
the  trunks  of  the  orchard  and  garden  trees,  and  more 
noticeably  in  the  garrulous  trooping  of  the  blue  jays  from 
tree-top  to  tree-top  in  early  spring,  apparently  enjoying  a 
game  of  "  pussy  in  the  corner." 

In  striking  contrast  to  their  social  tendency  at  times, 
there  is  a  more  serious  phase  of  the  life  of  the  red-headed 
woodpeckers.  They  spend  a  good  share  of  their  time  in 


Red -headed   Woodpecker.  85 

solitary  reverie,  standing  against  the  perpendicular  side 
of  a  stub  or  trunk,  tapping  listlessly  now  and  then  from 
sheer  force  of  habit,  or  drumming  occasionally  to  practice 
their  musical  rattle.  Like  the  other  woodpeckers,  they 
are  either  noticeably  noisy  or  impressively  silent.  They 
are  true  woodsmen,  at  times  reserved  and  even  taciturn, 
at  others  gay  and  frolicsome  to  the  verge  of  excess.  The 
real  nature  of  the  woodpeckers  disposes  them  to  solitude 
and  contemplation,  and  I  have  thought  that  the  gambols 
of  the  red-heads  are  the  reactions  of  their  deeply  medita- 
tive moods.  Our  red-headed  friends  are  philosophers  at 
least  in  appearance,  for  when  alone  every  action  of  theirs 
seems  to  be  preceded  by  calm  forethought  and  deliberate 
judgment.  Observe  the  silent  deportment  of  an  individ- 
ual braced  along  the  top  of  a  stub  or  favorite  branch  ! 
How  deliberate  and  thoughtful  is  his  air  as  he  looks 
calmly  either  right  or  left,  or  gazes  stolidly  at  the  surface 
before  him,  and  perhaps  strikes  a  few  steady  blows  with  his 
sharp  pick,  as  though  seeking  a  morsel  beneath  the  bark ! 
He  is,  however,  only  ruminating  on  important  questions 
of  Picine  policy,  for  he  has  lately  dined  on  ants  picked 
from  a  decaying  stump  that  he  claims  as  his  larder,  and 
he  is  therefore  not  hungry,  but  well  fed,  and  has  time  to 
consider  such  weighty  matters  as  demand  his  attention. 
In  their  vocal  efforts  the  woodpeckers  make  no  claims 
to  musical  genius ;  but  while  they  are  not  gifted  with 
powers  of  song,  the  red-headed  woodpeckers  are  skillful 
and  finished  in  their  instrumental  performances.  Their 
appreciation  of  rhythm  and  resonance  is  often  clearly 
shown  in  the  resounding  reveilles  they  beat  upon  their 
favorite  branches  or  other  suitable  instruments.  The 
steeple  of  a  church  adjoining  my  father's  residence  was  a 
favorite  resort  for  the  red-heads  of  the  vicinity  who  de- 
sired to  practice  their  love  calls.  Its  tin  covering  and 
hollow  structure  formed  a  famous  sounding-board,  and 
their  loud  drumming  upon  it  could  be  heard  an  extraor- 
dinary distance.  I  frequently  wondered  what  the  silly 
red-heads  could  find  in  that  tin-covered  steeple  as  a  mo- 
tive for  their  continuous  tapping,  seemingly  kept  up  in- 
termittently for  many  minutes  on  some  occasions.  As  I 
became  more  observant,  however,  I  found  that  the  tap- 


86  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

ping  was  a  rhythmic  roll,  produced  only  for  the  sake  of 
the  sound,  and  corresponding  to  the  drumming  of  the 
partridge  in  the  springtime  as  a  signal  to  any  lovelorn 
female  that  might  chance  to  be  within  hearing. 

Have  you  never  thought  that  there  are  some  gifted  in- 
strumental musicians  among  the  birds?  It  is  evident 
that  this  regular  drumming  of  the  woodpeckers  is  not 
practiced  in  the  course  of  their  ordinary  work  in  procur- 
ing food,  for  in  the  latter  case  their  strokes  are  generally 
given  more  slowly  and  with  more  labored  motion,  accom- 
panied by  frequent  search  for  results.  Their  drumming, 
on  the  other  hand,  has  all  the  elements  which  distinguish 
music  from  noise;  and  from  the  glances  of  the  performers 
to  right  or  left,  and  the  expectant  air  with  which  they  look 
and  listen  during  the  interludes,  we  infer  that  they  desire 
reply  of  similar  character,  or  applause  from  the  listener 
below.  And  frequently  they  merit  applause  in  their 
skillful  renditions,  for  they  beat  the  long  roll  with  the 
ease  and  effect  of  trained  army  drummers,  and  their  fine 
sense  of  expression  is  impressed  upon  us  by  their  varia- 
tion of  touch  and  mastery  of  technique.  I  knew  a  red- 
headed woodpecker  who  recognized  the  acoustic  proper- 
ties of  the  tin  water-pipe  descending  from  the  roof  of  a 
large  school  building,  and  in  the  spring  and  early  summer 
his  long,  rattling  roll  would  resound  with  wonderful 
effect.  Frequently  the  drowsy  deacons  of  rural  churches 
are  startled  from  their  dozing  by  the  vibrant  rattle  of  the 
woodpeckers  drumming  upon  the  resonant  corner  of  the 
wooden  cornice  or  upon  the  low,  box-like  belfry;  for  the 
red-heads  have  apparently  learned  that  the  quiet  stillness 
of  the  Sabbath  morning  enhances  the  effect  of  their  per- 
formances. Any  objects  which  act  as  sounding-boards 
may  be  selected  by  these  virtuosos,  and  after  a  particular 
instrument  is  found  to  their  satisfaction,  they  practice 
upon  it  in  preference  to  others  in  the  vicinity. 

At  times  the  silent  movements  of  the  red-headed  wood- 
peckers in  their  operations  about  the  orchard  and  else- 
where are  also  curiously  at  variance  with  their  noisy 
behavior  on  other  occasions.  Sometimes  the  orchard 
seems  to  be  deserted  by  them,  when  they  are  clinging 
meditatively  behind  some  approved  shelter,  striking  into 


Red- headed    Woodpecker.  87 

the  decayed  wood  only  occasionally,  the  rotten  particles 
giving  passage  to  their  sharp  bills  with  dead  or  muffled 
sound.  They  are  wary  enough  to  evade  observation 
when  they  desire,  and  as  the  bird-gazer  passes  around  the 
stub,  tree  trunk,  or  telegraph  pole  on  whose  opposite  side 
they  cling,  they  keep  from  view  with  the  skill  and  cun- 
ning displayed  by  the  squirrels  in  their  arboreal  haunts. 
Their  facility  in  dodging  is  apparent  to  any  one  passing 
along  a  telegraph  line,  the  tall,  seasoned  poles  of  which  are 
favorite  resorts  of  the  red-headed  woodpeckers.  Around 
the  sides  of  the  poles  they  watch  the  observer  from  the 
corners  of  their  eyes,  hopping  around  in  time  with  the 
progress  of  the  suspected  person.  Frequently  they  fly 
from  one  pole  to  the  next  in  advance  of  an  approaching 
person,  finally  evading  him  by  doubling  around  their 
post  of  observation  and  flying  along  the  line  he  has  just 
passed,  all  the  while  silent  and  alert.  Their  flight  has 
little  of  the  long  undulations  which  mark  the  course  of 
most  of  the  woodpeckers  through  the  air,  and  varies  little 
from  a  straight  line,  though  it  usually  ends  in  an  upright, 
abrupt  curve. 

The  red-headed  woodpeckers  are  remarkably  deliberate 
and  thorough  in  taking  their  food  from  a  particular  spot. 
They  differ  materially  from  some  of  their  relatives  in 
hunting  more  closely  over  any  selected  stub  or  branch  in 
quest  of  their  fo'od.  The  restless  gleaning  of  the  downy 
woodpeckers  through  the  orchard  and  woods  is  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  steady,  stolid  work  of  the  red-heads  in 
any  chosen  quarter,  and  the  business-like  methods  of  the 
latter  are  certain  to  keep  their  tables  well  supplied  with 
whatever  the  season  affords.  At  times  they  bore  irregu- 
larly for  many  minutes  without  changing  their  station, 
sometimes  striking  into  the  tough  wood  more  forcibly 
by  swinging  the  head  and  shoulders  about  the  stiff  tail 
feathers  as  a  fulcrum.  To  any  one  observant  of  their 
actions  while  working  industriously  for  their  food,  it  is 
evident  that  the  spine-like  quills  of  the  tail,  holding  them 
more  securely  in  position,  enable  them  to  throw  the  upper 
members  of  the  body  farther  from  the  objective  point  of 
their  operations,  and  thus  to  lend  more  of  the  weight  of 
the  body  to  the  stroke.  These  heavy,  irregular  strokes 


88  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

of  the  woodpeckers  are  characteristic  sounds  of  the  or- 
chard, and  have  little  in  common  with  the  rapid,  rhyth- 
mic beating  of  their  love  calls ;  they  are  rather  the 
labored  strokes  of  the  birds  seeking  to  supply  their  phys- 
ical needs.  There  are  evidences  of  acute  hearing  shown 
in  the  listening  attitudes  of  the  red-heads  after  an  inter- 
val of  strong  tapping ;  and  their  more  vigorous  strokes 
after  laying  their  heads  alongside  of  the  objective  point 
of  the  work  is  further  evidence  that  they  are  guided  in 
their  search  for  insects  chiefly  by  a  remarkably  acute 
sense  of  hearing. 

The  nests  of  the  redrheaded  woodpeckers  are  con- 
structed during  the  middle  and  latter  part  of  May.  The 
site  of  the  nest  is  as  variously  chosen  as  the  varying  na- 
ture of  their  circumstances  admit.  Often  the  cavity  is 
constructed  in  a  dead  stub  only  a  few  feet  from  the 
ground  ;  frequently  it  is  near  the  top  of  an  elevated, 
deadened  arm  of  a  forest  monarch.  A  friend  of  mine 
once  clambered  out  to  a  nest  on  the  under  side  of  an  ob- 
lique branch  which  extended  over  the  water  of  a  wide, 
shallow  creek,  so  that  the  site  was  at  least  seventy-five 
feet  above  the  water.  Dead,  denuded  stubs,  not  more 
than  eight  to  ten  inches  in  diameter,  are  favorite  sites  for 
their  cavities,  and  oblique  branches  are  always  in  de- 
mand. The  excavation  is  not  generally  made  in  rotten 
or  decaying  wood,  but  in  sound,  seasoned  timber,  in  whose 
strength  and  firmness  the  death  of  the  branch  or  stub  has 
made  but  little  difference.  A  chosen  site  may  contain  a 
number  of  excavations  made  by  the  woodpeckers  in  suc- 
ceeding years;  and  while  I  am  not  certain  that  the  same 
cavity  is  used  by  the  same  pair  of  birds  in  a  later  season, 
it  may  be  pre-empted  in  the  following  year  by  another 
pair  and  used  as  a  home  to  rear  a  brood.  Generally  a 
pair  prefer  to  excavate  another  cavity,  even  in  the  same 
branch  or  stub,  to  occupying  the  cavity  of  the  preceding 
season.  The  female  does  not  shirk  any  part  of  the  labor 
in  the  construction  of  her  future  home,  and  the  male  does 
not  leave  the  matter  of  building  to  his  spouse,  as  is  com- 
mon with  so  many  birds;  but  with  a  perfect  understand- 
ing they  take  turns  of  ten  to  thirty  minutes  at  the  work, 
one  relieving  the  other  at  pleasure. 


Red-headed    Woodpecker.  89 

The  entrance  is  a  sub-circular  hole  only  large  enough 
to  admit  the  body  of  the  birds  with  ease,  and  the  cavity 
extends  horizontally  backward  from  the  top  of  the  en- 
trance for  five  or  six  inches,  while  from  the  bottom  of  the 
entrance  it  slopes  more  abruptly  toward  the  bottom.  The 
depth  of  the  cavity  varies  from  eight  to  fifteen  inches  in 
most  instances;  in  exceptional  cases  it  is  even  deeper. 
The  base  of  the  excavation  is  wide,  forming  a  roomy  re- 
cess from  five  to  six  inches  in  extent.  The  floor  of  the 
cavity  is  covered  with  a  bed  of  soft  wood  dust  in  some 
instances;  frequently  the  bottom  is  bare.  No  material 
for  a  nest  is  carried  into  the  cavity,  but  the  beautiful, 
rosy-white  eggs  are  deposited  on  the  bare  wood.  There 
are  five  or  six  eggs  in  the  complement,  and  the  average 
egg  measures  an  inch  long  by  .78  of  an  inch  in  breadth. 
The  eggs  are  generally  deposited  by  the  first  of  June,  and 
both  birds  attend  to  the  duties  of  incubation. 

The  care  of  the  young  birds  is  a  matter  of  some  moment 
to  the  parents,  and  the  time  of  both  is  pretty  nearly  oc- 
cupied in  providing  for  the  wants  of  the  growing  young- 
sters. When  the  young  are  quite  helpless,  the  parent 
birds  first  alight  in  their  accustomed  place  below  the 
entrance,  and  then  slip  into  the  cavity  to  attend  to  the 
brood.  When  the  nestlings  are  older,  the  parent  birds 
notify  them  of  their  arrival  by  drumming  on  the  rim  of 
the  entrance,  in  response  to  which  the  eager  youngsters 
set  up  a  confused  murmur,  which  has  a  strangely  buzzing 
effect  to  the  listener  without,  and  they  clamber  to  the 
entrance  to  receive  supplies  from  their  elders.  It  is 
usually  well  into  July  before  the  broods  leave  their  nests, 
and  the  young  birds  are  soon  at  ease  on  the  wing,  and 
readily  learn  to  forage  for  themselves.  The  young  can  be 
distinguished  from  their  elders  by  their  brownish  gray 
head,  neck,  and  throat,  instead  of  the  bright  crimson  of 
the  corresponding  parts  in  the  plumage  of  the  older  birds. 
The  young  also  have  their  backs  marked  with  gray  and 
black.  Several  weeks  are  spent  by  the  parents  and  the 
youngsters  in  company  or  in  communication,  the  latter 
apparently  receiving  careful  training  in  the  most  approved 
methods  of  capturing  and  finding  their  food,  after  which 


90  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

they  are  free  to   make  their  way  according  to  their  own 
pleasure. 

The  red-headed  woodpeckers  have  learned  to  vary  their 
diet  gathered  from  the  bark  and  cavities  of  trees  by  cap- 
turing flying  insects,  and  also  in  taking  them  from  the 
ground.  When  we  have  watched  their  actions  along  the 
telegraph  poles,  we  have  often  seen  them  fly  obliquely  up- 
ward, dexterously  capture  an  insect  which  had  entered 
their  field  of  vision,  and  fly  back  to  their  station  on  the 
side  of  the  pole.  Indeed,  they  are  as  skillful  as  the  king- 
birds in  this  aerial  prehension  of  food,  and  hence  might 
claim  a  place  with  the  flycatchers.  I  have  seen  them 
shoot  upward  almost  perpendicularly  above  the  top  of  the 
high  steeple  mentioned,  turn  abruptly  after  an  attempt, 
and  return  to  their  drumming  as  indifferently  as  though 
their  actions  were  perfectly  natural.  These  sallies  into 
the  air,  either  in  the  rapid  dashes  upward  or  in  slightly 
elevated  courses  from  a  horizontal,  ending  in  a  beautiful 
elliptical  curve  upward  to  take  their  prey,  are  very  char- 
acteristic of  these  many-sided  experts.  Frequently  they 
fly  directly  to  the  ground  from  their  post  of  observation, 
pick  up  some  attractive  morsel,  and  return  to  their  place 
to  swallow  it,  as  we  have  observed  the  bluebirds  do  in 
their  foraging.  The  red-heads  are  especially  fond  of  grass- 
hoppers and  large  beetles,  and  in  their  visits  to  the 
ground  and  in  their  aerial  excursions  they  are  attracted 
by  these  larger  dainties.  The  conveniences  of  civilization 
have  suggested  to  these  enterprising  fellows  that  it  is 
easier  to  spread  their  boards  from  the  plenty  about  them 
than  to  pierce  the  bark  and  wood  for  most  of  their  fare. 
Hence  they  have  added  to  their  strong  liking  for  the  wild 
fruits  of  their  native  woods  a  similar  taste  for  the  fruits 
of  the  orchard  and  garden  and  some  of  the  products  of  the 
field,  so  that  at  times  they  appear  inimical  to  the  interests 
of  the  horticulturist.  Wilson  Flagg  says  that  they  carry 
off  the  finest  apples,  and  feed  upon  the  Indian  corn  when 
in  the  milk.  We  have  seen  them  accompany  the  robins 
to  gather  supplies  from  the  cherry  trees,  and  have  ob- 
served them  associated  with  the  brown  thrashers  to  regale 
themselves  with  the  treasured  pears.  Scientific  investi- 
gation, however,  has  demonstrated  the  general  utility  of 


Red-headed   Woodpecker.  91 

the  red-headed  woodpeckers,  and  shown  that  the  damage 
they  do  in  the  orchard,  garden,  and  field  is  in  small  ratia 
to  their  beneficial  services. 

There  is  a  provident  side  to  the  character  of  the  red- 
heads, for  in  times  of  plenty  they  have  regard  to  their 
needs  for  the  future.  Their  hard  experiences  in  former 
periods,  before  the  days  of  civilization,  doubtless  stamped 
upon  the  species  the  trait  of  hoarding  a  part  of  their 
present  supplies;  hence  they  can  be  often  observed  flying 
toward  some  chosen  spot,  carrying  something  for  their 
hoard.  Acorns,  nuts,  and  other  similar  bits  of  food  are 
stored  into  crevices  of  the  bark  of  favorite  trees,  crotches 
of  branches,  and  cavities  they  have  constructed  or  se- 
lected for  the  purpose.  The  birds  being  migratory  here, 
these  little  scattered  stores  of  food  are  seldom  drawn 
upon;  the  habit,  however,  suggests  the  inquiry  as  to 
whether  these  woodpeckers  were  not  formerly  residents 
in  this  section.  It  is  well  known  that  the  blue  jays,  the 
nuthatches,  and  other  birds  of  the  woods  share  with  the 
red-heads  this  habit  of  hoarding  for  times  of  need. 


III.— TENANTS    OF    THE    HEDGEROW. 

"  The  little  bird  sits  at  his  door  in  the  sun, 
Atilt  like  a  blossom  among  the  leaves, 
And  lets  his  illumined  being  o'errun 

With  the  deluge  of  summer  it  receives ; 
His  mate  feels'  the  eggs  beneath  ner  wings, 
And  the  heart  in  her  dumb  breast  flutters  and  sings; 
He  sings  to  the  wide  world,  and  she  to  her  nest  : 
In  the  nice  ear  of  nature,  which  soug  is  the  best?  " 

— LOWELL. 

DOUBTLESS  a  vast  number  of  American  boys  and  girls 
are  familiar  -with  the  osage  orange,  and  know  how  the 
rows  of  that  growth  tesselate  the  extended  prairies  of  this 
section  of  our  Union.  Many  of  our  readers  live  in  rural 
regions,  and  have  seen  hedges  every  day  for  years — have 

have  long  since  ceased  to  admire  or  even  notice  them. 
But  those  who  have  ridden,  rambled,  or  worked  along  a 
hedgerow,  if  they  have  formed  the  habit  of  hearing  the 
myriad  sounds  and  observing  the  suggestive  sights  ever 
inviting  one's  attention,  have  noticed  that  the  ordinary 
hedgerow  is  populous  with  feathered  songsters,  and  con- 
tains homes  wonderful  in  their  construction  and  design. 
Many  of  our  well-known  birds,  and  others  whose  notes 
and  forms  have  escaped  ordinary  attention,  frequent  the 
hedges  of  the  prairie  region,  building  their  nests  and 
rearing  their  young  where  one  can  easily  form  their  ac- 
quaintance and  become  conversant  with  their  ways  and 
manners.  Not  all  the  species  tenanting  the  hedge  are 
found  in  any  particular  row.  Some  species  resort  only  to 
pieces  of  hedge  which  have  been  allowed  to  grow  un- 
trimmed  for  several  years,  and  whose  long  horizontal 

(92) 


Loggerhead  Shrike.  9$ 

branches  droop  almost  to  the  ground  with  their  weight  of 
boughs  and  foliage.  A  few  species  nest  only  in  hedges 
which  border  or  overhang  ditches  and  low  meadows, 
while  other  species  resort  to  hedgerows  only  in  certain 
portions  of  the  summer  season. 


LOGGEKHEAD   SHRIKE. 

The  loggerhead  shrike  is  one  of  the  familiar  tenants  of 
the  hedgerow  in  early  spring,  and  most  boys  recognize  its 
well-built  form  perched  on  the  summit  of  an  upright 
branch,  stake,  or  small  isolated  tree.  However,  it  is  sel- 
dom known  among  its  rural  friends  by  the  title  we  have 
used,  but  it  will  be  quickly  recognized  under  its  more 
popular  name  of  "  butcher  bird."  The  shrike  is  famous 
for  its  unexplained  habit  of  impaling  its  prey  upon  thorns, 
and  in  this  curious  trait  we  find  the  origin  of  its  popular 
title.  This  bird  can  be  identified  .easily  by  strangers  by 
the  ashy-gray  plumage,  with  black  wings  and  tail,  the 
black  stripe  upon  the  side  of  the  head,  and  the  white  spot 
displayed  on  the  black  wings  while  the  bird  is  flying. 
Persons  who  have  observed  the  mocking  bird  in  flight  will 
remember  that  it  also  displays  white  spots  on  its  wings. 

This  bold  privateer  early  claimed  a  place  among  my 
avian  acquaintances.  On  my  initial  visit  to  the  woods, 
when  I  was  first  allowed  to  go  fishing  with  several  older 
companions,  we  passed  a  low  thorn-tree  along  the  road- 
side, from  which  flew  out  a  grayish  bird  with  white  spots 
on  its  wings.  "There  goes  a  butcher  bird,"  and  "  No,  it's 
a  French  mocking  bird,"  and  "  He's  got  a  nest  in  there," 
cried  the  boys,  with  a  rush  for  the  tree.  Thus  I  was  in- 
troduced to  the  butcher  bird,  which  I  was  afterward  told 
by  higher  authority  was  the  great  northern  shrike.  How- 
ever, when  I  owned  a  gun  and  became  interested  in 
ornithology,  I  learned  by  examination  of  the  birds  that 
our  winter  shrike  differs  in  important  details  from  the 
summer  resident.  The  great  northern  shrike  visits  us 
only  in  winter,  and  is  not  known  to  nest  in  Illinois;  while 
our  summer  shrike  is  the  loggerhead  species.  The  latter 
is  no  less  powerful,  cruel,  and  bold  than  the  northern 


94  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

shrike,  both  possessing  the  same  traits  and  essentially  the 
same  nature,  and  differing  little  in  appearance  to  the 
casual  observer.  The  wavy  dusky  lines  on  the  breast  of 
the  northern  shrike,  however,  serve  to  distinguish  it  from 
the  loggerhead  shrike. 

The  summer  home  of  the  loggerhead  shrike  is  eastern 
United  States,  ranging  north  to  middle  New  England, 
and  west  to  the  great  plains.  The  white-rumped 
variety  occurs  in  other  portions  of  temperate  North 
America,  and  is  probably  gradually  extending  its  habitat 
•eastward,  overlapping  the  range  of  the  original  logger- 
head on  the  north  and  west,  reaching  even  into  New 
England.  The  first  individuals  appear  in  this  latitude 
early  in  March,  and  the  last  are  seen  until  the  end  of  Oc- 
tober. They  may  be  seen  perched  on  the  telegraph  wires 
along  railroads,  in  the  summits  of  isolated  trees  in  fields, 
en  shocks  of  corn,  and  on  hedges  along  roadsides  and  else- 
where. At  the  approach  of  any  person  they  take  wing, 
with  low  flight,  in  a  moderately  undulating  course,  dis- 
playing little  of  the  lightness  of  wing  so  characteristic 
of  many  birds.  Like  the  passage  of  the  great  horned  owl 
among  the  forest  trees,  their  line  of  flight  is  usually  be- 
low the  point  where  they  wish  to  perch,  and  hence  their 
flight  ends  in  an  elliptical  curve  upward  to  the  branch  on 
which  they  aim  to  alight. 

A  pair  of  shrikes  will  often  resort  to  the  same  locality 
year  after  year,  even  when  disturbed  in  their  nidificatiou. 
A  solitary  cottonwood  tree,  standing  beside  a  small  pond 
in  a  meadow  adjoining  my  native  village,  yearly  harbored 
a  pair  of  shrikes.  With  another  tree  of  the  same  species 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  village,  growing  near  a  hedge 
and  a  ditch,  I  learned  to  associate  another  pair  of  butcher 
birds,  and  annually  I  was  certain  to  find  their  nest,  either 
in  the  tree  or  the  hedge.  Their  nests  were  frequently 
harried  by  wandering  boys  in  quest  of  specimens,  yet 
each  returning  spring  found  the  shrikes  constructing  their 
homes  at  the  accustomed  stands.  A  reason  for  their  ap- 
pearing to  return  to  the  same  places  every  year  to  locate 
their  nests  is  found  in  the  fact  that  they  prefer  the  end  of 
a  hedgerow ;  and  if  a  pair  select  a  site  in  any  hedge,  it 
will  usually  be  about  twenty  feet  from  the  extremity  of 


Loggerhead  Shrike.  95 

the  row.  Thus  certain  sites  in  the  hedgerow  are  tenanted 
year  after  year,  while  perhaps  the  owners  of  the  site  may 
change  with  each  season. 

During  the  early  portions  of  the  season  the  shrikes  are 
quite  musically  inclined,  and  the  males  possess  a  variety 
of  notes  which  are  well  adapted  to  the  character  of  the 
species.  I  can  only  think  of  the  rude  war  songs  of  the 
Spartan  soldiers  in  connection  with  the  musical  attempts 
of  these  plundering  barons.  Generally  their  music  is 
harsh  and  squeaky,  yet  at  times  some  of  their  tones  are 
sweet  and  sympathetic.  One  evening,  at  dusk,  in  early 
April,  I  was  walking  homeward  from  an  afternoon  ramble, 
when  my  interest  was  excited  by  a  strange  song,  uttered 
with  an  earnestness  and  emphasis  new  to  me.  Was  it  the 
performance  of  some  genius  who  had  not  yet  learned  to  use 
his  musical  voice  with  ease  and  accuracy?  Or  was  the  per- 
former a  migrant  with  whom  I  was  unacquainted?  Yet 
there  was  a  familiar  ring  in  the  short  series  of  notes,  re- 
peated after  slight  pauses.  The  performer  was  hidden  in 
the  body  of  the  hedgerow,  and  was  so  occupied  with  his 
efforts  that  I  approached  within  six  feet  of  him,  sitting 
near  a  nest  recently  finished.  It  was  the  veritable  love 
ecstasy  of  a  shrike,  to  which  I  had  listened  for  the  first 
and  only  time  in  my  life.  Such  songs  are  heard  only  a 
few  times  in  one's  experience,  and  they  represent  the  acme 
of  the  musical  ability  of  the  individual  furnishing  the  de- 
lightful strains.  The  best  music  of  the  shrike  has  a  cer- 
tain sweetness,  and  is  suggestive  of  the  notes  of  a  flute, 
yet  the  element  of  harshness  displeases  the  ear  of  the 
sensitive  listener. 

In  this  locality  the  shrikes  begin  nest-building  about 
the  first  of  April.  Generally  the  foliage  of  the  hedgerow 
has  not  developed  before  the  completion  of  the  structures, 
and  the  bulky  objects  can  be  easily  seen  from  a  distance. 
Stout  thorny  crotches  in  the  main  axis  of  the  hedgerow, 
from  five  to  eight  feet  from  the  ground,  are  the  usual  sites 
of  the  nests.  Honey  locusts,  wild  crab  apple,  plum,  and 
other  thorny  and  dwarf  trees  furnish  it  strong  positions 
for  constructing  its  castle.  The  nest  is  placed  in  a  frame- 
work of  coarse,  thorny  twigs,  and  is  formed  of  soft  vege- 
table bark,  dried  leaves  and  grass,  wool,  feathers,  and 


96  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

similar  materials,  well  interwoven.  The  cavity  averages 
three  and  three-fourth  inches  in  diameter,  and  two  and 
one-fourth  inches  deep,  and  is  rendered  cozy  by  the  soft 
feathers  used  for  lining.  The  eggs  in  a  complement  vary 
from  five  to  seven,  and  are  dull  grayish  white,  spotted  and 
marked  irregularly  with  reddish  brown  and  lilac.  They 
measure  .90  to  1.00  inch  in  length,  by  .70  to  .82  in  width. 
In  many  instances  two  broods  are  reared  in  a  season  in 
this  locality. 

The  beautiful  domestic  relations  of  the  shrike  present  a 
marked  contrast  to  the  cruel,  heartless  disposition  he 
evinces  beyond  his  home  circle.  If  he  is  a  plundering 
baron  among  his  fellows,  he  is  a  devoted,  loving  knight  in 
his  attentions  to  his  lady.  In  the  erection  of  the  castle 
residence,  custom  prescribes  that  the  bulk  of  the  work 
shall  fall  to  the  part  of  the  female.  Like  a  true  knight, 
however,  he  lingers  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  site; 
and  when  she  flies  to  the  spot  with  a  mouthful  of  weed- 
bark,  feathers,  or  other  materials,  he  flies  to  the  nest  also, 
and  encourages  her  with  many  a  loving  "quaa."  While 
she  is  incubating,  he  is  equally  faithful  in  supplying  her 
wants.  He  can  generally  be  seen  perched  on  a  telegraph 
wire,  if  the  hedge  containing  his  home  borders  the  rail- 
road ;  otherwise,  he  has  a  convenient  perch  near  the  nest. 
When  he  espies  a  grasshopper  or  a  mouse,  he  flies  down 
and  captures  it,  returning  to  his  station  for  a  moment  to 
survey  the  neighborhood.  If  he  find  the  coast  clear, 
he  flies  immediately  to  the  nest,  and  proffers  his  love- 
offering  to  the  female,  both  birds  uttering  a  plaintive  cry, 
accompanied  by  the  syllable  previously  mentioned,  ut- 
tered now  in  a  more  affectionate  tone.  Frequently  the 
female  leaves  the  nest  to  meet  him  on  a  near  perch,  and 
an  affectionate  scene  ensues — a  rubbing  of  noses  and  a 
long  "quaa"  conversation. 

Once,  when  I  stood  in  a  road  and  watched  a  male  flying 
with  food  toward  a  nest  near  me,  he  turned  his  course  and 
flew  along  the  hedge,  away  from  the  nest,  for  twenty  rods 
at  least;  then,  apparently  concluding  that  I  was  not  to  be 
misled — perhaps  remembering  that  I  had  been  a  frequent 
visitor  to  the  nest,  and  meant  no  harm  to  his  openly- 
constructed  home — he  abruptly  wheeled  about  and  came 


Jjoggerhead  Shrike.  97 

directly  to  the  nest.  If  the  female  is  tired  of  brooding  her 
eggs,  and  desires  to  stretch  her  wings  in  a  refreshing  ex- 
cursion afield,  she  meets  her  devoted  mate  on  a  con- 
venient perch  near  the  nest,  and  after  receiving  his 
affectionate  greeting,  she  flies  to  the  accustomed  stand  on 
the  wire  or  elsewhere.  He  settles  himself  in  the  feathery 
circle  of  his  home,  while  she  starts  out  over  the  adjoining 
meadow  or  corn-field  to  forage  for  herself. 

When  the  safety  of  the  nest  is  threatened,  the  male  is 
prompt  to  respond  to  the  harsh  call  of  his  spouse.  How- 
ever, she  is  not  easily  displaced  from  her  charge,  and 
when  she  is  disturbed,  she  perches  near  the  nest,  after 
leaving  it  sullenly  and  deliberately;  then  she  gradually 
draws  nearer,  and  even  threatens  to  attack  the  disturber. 
All  the  while  she  utters  the  harsh  syllable  represented  by 
the  combination  "quaa."  Soon  her  faithful  knight  is  at 
her  side,  and  both  birds  are  kept  away  from  the  disturber 
of  their  home  only  by  the  repellent  demonstrations  of  the 
enemy,  whom,  they  regard  with  fierce  eyes  and  ruffled 
plumage.  Their  dogged,  deliberate  courage  in  thus  de- 
fending their  premises  is  only  another  manifestation  of 
their  stolid  Spartan  character,  and  presents  a  marked  con- 
trast to  the  excited  fluttering  and  feigned  attacks  of  more 
helpless  birds  when  their  homes  are  threatened. 

Concerning  the  food  habits  of  the  shrike,  there  is  un- 
certainty as  to  which  side  of  the  account  the  balance  be- 
longs to.  Field  mice,  moles,  and  grasshoppers  form  a 
large  per  cent,  of  its  yearly  bill  of  fare,  and  this  fact  en- 
titles it  to  favorable  consideration.  It  is  said  to  pick  up 
young  rabbits  in  season,  thus  ridding  the  horticulturist  of 
troublesome  pests  later  in  the  year.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  destroys  smaller  species  of  birds  and  reptiles,  which  are 
themselves  greatly  beneficial.  Its  rapacity  and  cruelty 
are  attested  by  numerous  witnesses.  A  writer,  signing 
himself  «  J.D.  F.,"  in  Oologist  for  October,  1888,  says  that 
the  shrike  is  a  particular  enemy  of  the  yellow-throated 
warbler,  and  that  he  has  often  seen  it,  though  not  without 
battle  with  the  old  birds,  tear  down  the  tuft  of  moss  in 
which  the  nest  is  always  suspended,  and  devour  the  con- 
tents. He  adds  that  in  like  manner  it  destroys  the  nest 
of  the  brown-headed  nuthatch,  by  pulling  down  the  dead 
7 


98  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

bark  which  protects  the  nest.  On  one  occasion  I  observed 
a  loggerhead  shrike  chasing  a  bird  which  I  took  to  be  a 
Maryland  yellow-throat,  and  like  a  weasel  in  his  deter- 
mination, he  followed  his  quarry  more  than  a  mile  over 
the  open  meadows;  and  when  his  intended  victim  dropped 
into  a  thicket  to  escape  its  relentless  pursuer,  he  dashed 
down  after  it  with  unabated  perseverance. 

Most  of  the  accounts  of  the  boldness  and  rapacity  of  the 
shrike  refer  to  the  great  northern  species.  Though  we 
have  said  that  the  loggerhead  shrike  is  scarcely  less  bold 
and  cruel  in  its  nature,  it  makes  its  home  with  us  during 
the  time  when  insect  food  is  abundant;  and  in  its  diet  it  is 
largely  insectivorous,  since  insects  are  captured  with  less 
exertion  than  are  small  birds.  In  the  early  spring  it  is  a 
fellow-laborer  of  the  farmer  who  is  moving  the  shocks  of 
corn  which  have  been  allowed  to  stand  in  the  field  during 
the  winter  months.  The  corn  shocks  havebecome  tenanted 
by  families  of  mice,  and  when  the  stalks  are  torn  apart 
the  mice  can  be  seen  scampering  to  other  quarters.  The 
shrike,  waiting  from  a  convenient  perch  for  the  appear- 
ance of  its  prey,  dashes  in  pursuit  of  its  victim,  regardless 
of  the  proximity  of  the  farmer,  and  often  picks  up  its 
prey  almost  from  between  his  feet.  Sometimes  the  shrike 
will  hover  over  its  intended  victim  after  the  manner  of 
the  sparrow-hawk,  and  drop  down  upon  it  after  a  mo- 
mentary pause  in  mid-air. 

On  only  one  occasion  have  I  been  so  fortunate  as  to  wit- 
ness a  shrike  impale  its  victim — a  mouse  recently  caught — 
upon  a  thorn.  The  shrike  flew  past  me  with  its  prey, 
which  it  carried  in  its  strong  hooked  beak,  and  alighted  in 
the  top  of  a  hedge  tree  near  me.  Selecting  a  thorn  which 
projected  away  from  it,  the  lucky  forayer  pushed  the  body 
of  the  mouse  upon  the  thorn,  which  penetrated  the 
shoulders  of  the  victim.  By  pulling  on  the  body  with  his 
bill,  the  shrike  fastened  the  mouse  securely  as  be  pulled, 
and  thus  was  enabled  to  tear  away  the  portions  of  the 
body  he  desired  for  food.  Several  dainty  mouthfuls,  how- 
ever, appeared  to  satisfy  his  Epicurean  taste;  and  as 
three  or  four  wandering grackles alighted  in  the  tree  near 
him,  and  continued  the  voluble  conversation  in  which 
they  were  engaged,  the  shrike  indicated  his  disgust  at 


Brown    Thrasher.  99 

their  loquacity  by  flying  from  their  vicinity.  An  hour 
later  I  passed  the  tree,  desiring  to  know  whether  the 
shrike  had  returned  to  finish  his  disturbed  repast,  but  the 
mutilated  mouse  hung  with  hind  feet  and  tail  dangling  as 
the  shrike  had  left  it.  It  was  evident  to  me  that  the  bird 
had  not  killed  his  victim  solely  from  hunger.  Several 
weeks  later  I  again  passed  the  tree,  and  the  mouse  still 
dangled  as  before — a  striking  evidence  of  the  shrike's 
cruelty,  and  of  the  untimely  fate  of  mice  stealing  about 
on  mischief  bent. 

As  the  male  is  a  good  provider  for  his  wife  while  she  is 
brooding  her  eggs  and  young,  so  both  parents  are  notice- 
able in  the  care  of  their  offspring  learning  to  gain  their 
own  livelihood.  For  several  weeks  after  the  youngsters 
have  left  their  downy  home  the  parents  accompany  them, 
and  the  family  can  be  observed  scattered  along  a  telegraph 
wire  or  along  a  hedgerow.  The  careful  lessons  of  the 
parents  to  their  offspring  in  the  art  of  catching  grass- 
hoppers and  mice  are  very  interesting  and  amusing  to  the 
ornithologically  inclined  observer.  The  patience  of  the 
parents  and  the  docility  of  the  younglings  are  good  ex- 
amples for  beings  even  higher  than  the  birds.  Every  at- 
tempt of  the  novices  is  encouraged  by  an  affectionate 
"quaa,"  and  over  and  over  again  do  the  older  birds  ex- 
plain and  illustrate  until  the  youngsters  have  become 
self-supporting  and  each  of  them  can  forage  for  himself 
almost  as  skillfully  as  the  experienced  parents.  Thus  the 
shrikes  linger  among  us  until  the  changing  weather  of 
October  drives  them  to  southern  regions,  and  brings  to  us 
the  similar  but  different  species,  the  veritable  great 
northern  shrike. 


BROWN   THRASHER. 

While  we  are  examining  the  homes  of  the  shrikes,  the 
first  spring  songs  of  the  brown  thrasher  are  borne  to  our 
ears,  and  their  melodious  fulness  establishes  the  rank  of 
the  performer  as  the  prince  of  Northern  songsters.  During 
the  last  three  weeks  of  April  his  loud  melody,  poured  from 
his  perch  in  the  top  of  the  hedge,  can  be  heard  almost  in- 


100  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

cessantly,  and  has  given  him  no  mean  reputation,  even  in 
localities  where  brilliant  bird  music  is  the  rule.  Eesi- 
dents  of  the  open  prairie  districts  in  the  Northern  States, 
whose  acquaintance  with  the  mocking-bird  is  limited  to 
captives  and  an  occasional  wild  straggler,  and  who  never 
hear  the  exquisite  notes  of  the  wood  thrush  except  when 
visiting  the  deeper  woodlands,  recognize  the  brown 
thrasher  as  the  past  master  of  northern  rural  song.  In 
his  favorite  haunts  during  the  earlier  mating  and  nesting 
season,  no  bird  surpasses  him  in  the  volume  and  quality 
of  continued  melody.  The  cat-bird  alone  approaches  him 
in  sweetness  and  modulation,  but  lacks  the  thrasher's 
power  and  continuity  of  song;  and  the  cat-bird's  frequent 
interpolation  of  its  unmusical  cat-cry  detracts  much  from 
its  sweeter  utterances. 

From  the  manner  in  which  the  brown  thrasher  intro- 
duces the  notes  of  other  species  into  his  own  airs,  he  is 
popularly  known  as  a  "mocking-bird,"  though  he  should 
not  be  confounded  with  the  real  "  moquer"  of  the  South- 
ern States  and  the  southern  portions  of  our  own  State.  In 
real  melody  and  variety,  as  well  as  unexpected  surprises 
of  musical  combinations,  the  brown  thrasher  is  little  in- 
ferior to  the  true  mocking-bird,  but  after  him  is  not  rivalled 
by  any  other  American  bird.  Indeed,  many  excellent 
judges  with  cultivated  tastes  do  not  hesitate  to  place  the 
brown  thrasher  above  the  mocking-bird,  as  the  better 
singer,  in  their  judgment.  In  my  opinion,  however,  the 
brown  thrasher  evinces  less  taste  in  the  class  of  notes 
which  he  seems  to  imitate,  often  selecting  those  of  harsher 
quality,  and  thus  marring  the  effect  of  his  own  sweet  notes 
by  associating  with  them  the  notes  of  birds  whose  songs 
are  incomparably  below  his  own. 

The  brown  thrasher  is  an  inhabitant  of  North  America 
east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  south  of  the  British 
Provinces,  breeding  throughout  its  range,  and  migrating 
in  autumn  to  the  Southern  States.  Thomas  Mcll wraith 
says  that  it  occurs  throughout  Ontario,  and  crosses  the 
boundary  to  Manitoba  and  the  Northwest,  retiring  from 
Ontario  in  September.  On  its  northward  migration  it 
reaches  central  Illinois  late  in  March  or  early  in  April. 
March  18,  1882,  and  April  6,  1892,  are  the  extreme  dates 


Brown   Thrasher.  101 

among  my  records  of  its  arrival.  Kobert  Eidgway  notes 
its  arrival  at  Mount  Carrnel,  Illinois,  for  four  successive 
years,  from  March  21st  to  26th,  and  intimates  that  it 
sometimes  remains  all  winter  in  that  locality.  John  B. 
Grant,  in  "  Our  Common  Birds  and  How  to  Know  Them," 
states  that  it  arrives  in  southeastern  New  York  from  April 
20th  to  the  last  of  the  month,  at  which  time  most  nests  of 
the  brown  thrasher  in  central  Illinois  have  their  full  com- 
plement of  eggs. 

The  two  weeks  or  more  following  their  arrival  in  a 
given  neighborhood  are  devoted  to  courtship  and  song. 
The  brown  thrashers  are  regular  birds  of  the  hedgerows 
and  bushes;  but  during  the  period  of  honeymoon  they 
come  into  villages  and  suburbs  of  large'towns  to  sing  in 
the  tops  of  the  large  trees.  They  also  pour  forth  their 
lyrics  from,  the  elms  and  maples  of  the  farmer's  door-yard. 
Throughout  the  entire  day  they  vie  with  one  another  in 
their  clear,  sweet  notes,  which  are  usually  uttered  in  pairs. 
Indeed,  they  are  so  full  of  melody  that  they  commonly 
begin  their  songs  before  reaching  the  intended  perch. 
When  once  seated  in  a  commanding  position,  they  are  in 
no  hurry  to  leave  if  they  are  not  disturbed,  and  they  re- 
gale the  listener  with  a  full  round,  of  rich  recitals,  sitting 
with  head  erect  and  long  tail  pendent  as  they  utter  their 
varied  and  delightful  song.  Among  their  notes  we  can 
identify  the  soft  carol  of  the  bluebird,  the  bolder  warble 
of  the  robin,  portions  of  the  twitter  of  the  canary,  and  the 
squealing  of  the  young  pig,  as  well  as  other  less  musical 
tones,  all  mingled  with  the  notes  peculiar  to  these  song- 
sters. When  disturbed  in  their  recitals,  or  when  fancy 
leads  them,  they  abandon  their  perch  with  low,  heavy 
flight,  the  long  tails  drooping  as  they  advance  with  rather 
undulating  motion,  to  continue  the  concert  in  another 
neighborhood. 

The  nesting  season  begins  with  the  middle  of  April. 
Kesorting  less  to  the  large  trees  in  towns  and  suburbs, 
they  frequent  thickets,  hedgerows  of  osage  orange,  brush- 
heaps,  and  isolated  thorn  .trees  and  bushes  in  open  past- 
ures, to  construct  their  homes  and  rear  their  broods. 
Thickets  of  hazel,  wild  gooseberry  and  blackberry  bushes 
now  become  their  haunts.  Their  music  is  now  heard  less 


102  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

frequently,  though  at  times  while  the  female  is  sitting  the 
male  mounts  to  a  convenient  perch  and  cheers  his  mate 
with  his  sweetest  strains,  more  expressive  but  less  forcible 
than  the  earlier  songs.  By  the  time  the  eggs  are  hatched, 
the  males,  have  become  silent  and  their  songs  are  heard 
no  more  in  their  fulness  of  rich  melody,  the  end  of  the 
first  week  of  July  being  the  limit  of  the  vocal  season  in 
central  Illinois. 

However,  one  who  is  rambling  along  the  hedgerow  in 
July  or  August  may  frequently  come  upon  an  individual 
in  the  bush,  or  sitting  low  in  the  hedge,  uttering  portions 
of  his  song  in  a  low  monologue,  scarcely  audible  to  the 
eager  listener  a  dozen  feet  away  from  the  performer. 
This  tender  crooning  of  the  brown  thrasher,  like  that  of 
the  catbird  and  mockingbird,  is  heard  ctiiefly  at  early 
morning  or  late  evening  in  the  summer,  and  is  the  love 
plaint  of  some  late  householder  whose  early  home  was 
harried,  or  who  is  rearing  a  second  brood  to  cheer  the 
lonely  hours  of  the  moulting  season.  These  subdued  and 
saddened  songs  of  summer  are  more  appreciable  from  the 
fact  that  they  are  the  feeble  flickerings  of  the  expiring 
flame  of  melody  which  so  brightly  illumined  the  early 
weeks  of  spring,  and  we  turn  our  ears  to  catch  the  sounds 
now  dear  to  us  from  their  rarity,  as  remembrances  of  the 
perfect  days  whose  music  we  slighted  because  of  its  very 
omnipresence. 

The  nests  are  made  externally  of  hedge  sticks,  corn 
husks,  strips  of  bark,  and  other  coarse  materials.  I  have 
found  pieces  of  maple  bark  woven  into  nests  which  were 
fully  half  a  mile  from  the  nearest  maple  trees.  Dried  root 
fibers  are  usually  made  to  serve  as  lining  for  the  nests. 
The  common  situation  is  in  a  crotch  in  the  central  part  of 
the  hedge,  thorn-bush,  or  scrubby  tree,  at  distances  from 
the  ground  varying  in  all  degrees  under  six  feet.  Some- 
times nests  are  found  on  the  ground  beside  fallen  brush, 
and  once  I  found  a  nest  on  the  ground  in  an  open  meadow, 
set  in  the  grass  like  the  home  of  an  ordinarily  ground- 
nesting  species.  Another  time  I  found  a  nest  of  the  brown 
thrasher  in  an  apple  tree,  placed  on  a  platform  of  inter- 
secting twigs  of  horizontal  boughs  about  twelve  feet  from 
the  ground.  Nests  placed  in  the  hedges  are  usually  well 


Brown   Thrasher.  103 

surrounded  by  spiny  branches.  Heaps  of  hedge  and  other 
brush  are  very  satisfactory  sites  for  nests,  and  scattering 
clumps  of  wild  gooseberry  bushes  in  woody  pastures  are 
favored  sites,  as  well  as  dwarf  haw  trees.  The  eggs  are 
generally  four  in  number,  occasionally  five,  and  rarely 
six,  pale  greenish,  finely  speckled  with  reddish  brown. 
Davie  gives  the  average  size  as  1.08  by  .80  of  an  inch, 
with  considerable  variation. 

No  other  tenant  of  the  hedgerow  is  more  noisy  than 
the  brown  thrasher,  and  when  startled  from  the  bush  it 
emerges  with  a  great  rattle  and  flutter.  It  has  a  call  note 
which  can  be  closely  imitated  by  whistling  the  word 
"  G-eorge,"  the  first  half  of  the  combination  being  pro- 
longed. This  note,  as  well  as  a  sort  of  cracking  sound 
uttered  quickly,  is  also  used  to  express  alarm.  The  crack- 
ling note  is  given  almost  similarly  by  the  slate-colored 
junco,  and  also  by  the  fox  sparrow,  which  utters  it  more 
loudly  and  forcibly.  The  brown  thrasher  enjoys  hopping 
and  running  among  the  dead  leaves  at  the  base  of  the 
hedge,  and  it  thus  causes  considerable  rattling  and  rustling 
of  the  dried  vegetation.  Its  long  tail,  carried  usually  in 
a  drooping  manner,  is  frequently  expanded  in  a  graceful 
way  as  the  bird  flits  from  one  bush  to  another.  When  it 
flies  any  distance,  except  in  the  early  season  while  it  is 
frequenting  the  tops  of  the  taller  trees,  its  flight  is  low 
and  heavy,  resulting  from  its  comparatively  short  and 
rounded  wings;  and  its  pendent  tail  adds  to  the  effect. 

From  the  first  of  July  to  the  time  when  they  leave  our 
locality  in  the  early  days  of  October,  the  brown  thrashers 
skulk  closely  in  the  hedges,  brush-heaps,  and  thickets, 
indicating  their  presence  when  disturbed  by  the  notes 
already  mentioned,  and  flirting  out  of  the  hedge  with 
considerable  noise,  either  flitting  on  ahead  a  short  distance, 
or  passing  around  and  behind,  to  enter  the  hedge  again. . 
At  this  season  they  slip  quietly  into  orchards  and  fruit 
gardens  to  feast  upon  the  fresh  ripe  fruits.  Near  the  close 
of  warm  summer  afternoons  in  dry  seasons  several  indi- 
viduals may  be  seen  bathing  and  rolling  in  the  dust  of  the 
highway  with  evident  pleasure,  flitting  to  the  hedge  along 
the  roadside  when  they  are  disturbed  by  travelers.  This 
habit  of  dust  bathing  is  not  confined  to  this  species,  but 


104  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

is  indulged  in  by  many  of  our  familiar  birds,  and  is  much 
in  vogue  among  the  domestic  fowls. 

Prof.  S.  A.  Forbes,  in  his  investigations  of  the  food 
habits  of  many  of  our  common  birds,  has  done  the  agri- 
cultural interests  of  our  State  important  service,  and  his- 
reports  have  elsewhere  been  referred  to  and  quoted  from. 
His  observations  show  that  the  food  of  the  brown  thrasher 
consists  partly  of  fragments  of  corn  and  other  grains  and 
seeds,  predaceous  beetles,  ants,  caterpillars,  thousand -legs, 
and  other  similar  insects.  "It  relishes  the  whole  list  of 
garden  fruits,  and  later  in  the  season  resorts,  like  the 
other  thrushes,  to  the  wild  fruits  of  the  woods  and 
thickets." 

My  own  notes  record  the  havoc  made  by  the  brown 
thrashers  in  a  tree  of  ripening  pears:  I  have  seen  as 
many  as  four  birds  at  one  time  feeding  in  one  small  pear 
tree  in  the  heart  of  a  village  of  two  thousand  inhabitants. 
Their  manner  of  eating  pears  is  to  peck  large  mouthfuls 
from  each  pear  within  reach.  Thus  many  pears  are 
spoiled  for  use  though  not  entirely  eaten.  In  their  visits 
to  our  orchards  and  gardens,  the  brown  thrashers  always 
move  with  the  skulking  air  before  mentioned,  so  radically 
different  from  the  high-handed  manner  of  the  robin  and 
mockingbird.  Col.  (TOSS,  in  "Birds  of  Kansas,"  states 
that  they  have  a  peculiar  habit  of  beating  captured  in- 
sects upon  the  ground  or  perch,  knocking  and  thrashing 
them  about  until  dead  (and  removing  the  wings  and  legs 
of  the  larger  ones  before  swallowing),  and  for  this  reason 
they  are  called  thrashers. 

The  species  is  sometimes  known  as  the  brown  thrush, 
but  it  is  not  a  real  thrush,  and  Dr.  Coues  says  that  the 
thrashers  are  more  like  overgrown  wrens.  Persons  who 
are  not  acquainted  with  the  brown  thrasher  may  identify 
*it  by  the  bright  rusty  red  of  the  upper  parts,  the  clear 
white  throat,  the  reddish  white  breast  and  sides  marked 
with  spots  of  dark  brown,  the  black  bill  (black  except 
the  yellow  base  of  the  lower  mandible),  and  the  yellow 
iris.  Its  length  is  about  eleven  inches,  with  an  extent  of 
wing  of  thirteen  or  fourteen  inches. 


Traill's  Flycatcher.  105 


TKAILL'S    FLYCATCHER. 

A  few  species  loiter  and  dally  among  the  foliage  in  the 
first  weeks  of  spring,  as  though  loath  to  assume  the  re- 
sponsibility of  rearing  a  family;  they  flit  in  and  out 
among  the  leaves,  uttering  soft  notes  of  love  and  quiet  con- 
tent, seemingly  with  no  cares  and  no  thought  of  home- 
building.  In  this  list  we  find  Traill's  flycatcher  —  a 
small  bird  with  bright  olive  back  and  whitish  under  parts, 
with  dusky  wings,  crossed  by  two  grayish  bars.  The  re- 
tiring disposition  of  this  gentle-spirited  flycatcher,  and  its 
lack  of  forcible  notes  with  which  to  attract  attention  to  its 
presence,  as  well  as  its  marked  resemblance  to  several 
congeners,  have  prevented  the  circle  of  its  acquaintance 
from  widening  in  ratio  to  its  abundance.  In  this  locality 
it  is  the  most  common  of  the  flycatchers,  though  its 
presence  is  the  least  remarked,  owing  to  the  more  familiar 
habits  of  the  other  species.  It  is  known  to  boys  who  meet 
it  along  the  hedges  as  the  "pewee  flycatcher,"  and  it 
certainly  resembles  the  pewee  in  general  coloration  and  in 
superficial  habits.  Its  chief  mannerism  is  an  excessive 
restlessness,  which  not  often  allows  it  to  retain  a  position 
favorable  to  its  careful  examination  by  the  observer. 
While  the  pewee,  even  when  aware  of  observation,  will 
return  to  the  same  perch  repeatedly  after  darting  into 
the  air  to  capture  its  passing  prey,  Traill's  flycatcher 
changes  its  base  of  operation  rapidly,  and  almost  invariably 
stations  itself  so  that  intervening  foliage  obstructs  the 
view  of  the  observer.  It  rarely  perches  as  high  as  the 
limits  of  the  bushes  and  hedges  which  it  frequents;  while 
the  pewee  commonly  selects  an  exposed  position  on  a  dead 
or  bare  branch  of  a  tree,  often  quite  high,  for  its  point  of 
recon  n  aissan  ce. 

Traill's  flycatcher  is  a  summer  resident  of  western 
North  America,  from  the  Mississippi  Valley  (Ohio,  Illi- 
nois, and  Michigan)  to  the  Pacific.  It  retires  beyond 
the  United  States  in  winter,  visiting  Mexico  and  Cen- 
tral America.  It  is  one  of  the  later  travelers  from 
tropical  climes,  entering  our  latitude  about  the  third  week 
of  April,  sometimes  delaying  until  the  first  of  May.  Un- 


106  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

trimmed  hedges  of  two  to  four  seasons'  growth  appear  to 
be  its  favorite  places  of  resort  in  the  dry  prairie  regions, 
as  well  as  bushes  bordering  water-courses,  and  standing 
in  meadows  and  low  situations.  Places  frequented  by 
Bell's  vireo  and  the  white-eyed  vireo  are  usually  ten- 
anted by  this  flycatcher.  It  has  no  distaste  for  proximity 
to  towns  and  villages,  and  hedges  are  likely  to  harbor 
it,  provided  they  furnish  the  horizontal  and  drooping 
branches  on  which  it  ordinarily  places  its  upright  nest. 

1  The  first  two  or  three  weeks  of  their  summer  residence 
are  spent  by  these  flycatchers  among  the  bushes  or 
along  the  hedges,  sporting  with  their  companions,  and  de- 
voting their  days  to  quiet  courtship  and  the  delights  of 
love,  enjoying  a  period  corresponding  to  the  honeymoon 
of  more  rational  beings.  Strolling  along  the  hedges  at 
this  season,  we  hear  them  playing  with  their  mates,  lit- 
tering a  gentle  "queet,"  or"grea'  deal,"  perhaps  followed 
by  a  low,  squeaky  monologue  or  dialogue.  Presently  one 
darts  into  view,  followed  by  a  companion,  both  uttering 
the  soft  but  emphatic  note  above  given,  and  then  both  dis- 
appear in  the  foliage  as  quickly  as  they  appeared.  When 
over  the  hedge,  out  of  our  sight,  they  talk  in  a  low,  lisp- 
ing chatter,  which  is  readily  suggestive  of  the  first  efforts 
of  a  child  to  blow  his  tin  whistle.  This  is  their  nearest 
approach  to  singing,  as  the  flycatchers  are  ranked  by 
naturalists  among  the  Clamatores — the  group  of  passerine 
birds  which  lack  the  complicated  singing  apparatus,  and 
whose  vocal  performances  are  limited  to  short  cries.  Oc- 
casionally one  of  the  birds  flies  over  the  hedge,  and 
perches  momentarily  on  a  bare  limb,  after  the  manner  of 
the  pewee.  Almost  immediately  it  is  away  after  a  passing 

,  insect,  which  it  takes  by  a  short  outward  and  upward 
flight,  and  returns  to  its  perch,  to  dart  over  the  hedge  and 
out  of  sight  before  fairly  settling  to  rest. 

These  flycatchers  seldom  go  far  from  their  homes, 
and  soon  after  their  arrival  they  attach  themselves  to  a 
particular  piece  of  hedge,  along  which  they  play,  and  in 
which  they  will  establish  their  households.  When  the 
home  is  in  process  of  erection,  and  after  the  eggs  are  de- 
posited, their  gallantries  occur  near  the  nest;  and  when 


Traill's  Flycatcher.  107 

you  hear  their  gentle  "  queet,"  it  means  that  you  are 
within  a  small  radius  of  a  home,  and  the  owners  are 
voicing  their  distress  at  your  invasion  of  their  limits. 

Nests  of  Traill's  flycatcher  are  seldom  found  in  this 
locality  before  the  second  week  in  June.  I  have  repeat- 
edly looked  for  them  earlier  without  success.  Hedges 
afford  the  most  favored  sites,  and  the  distance  from  the 
ground  varies  between  three  and  ten  feet.  Hazel,  plum, 
and  alder  bushes  are  common  resorts,  and  among  such 
bushes  the  nest  is  generally  placed  in  an  upright  crotch. 
On  July  30,  1894,  I  found  a  nest  four  feet  from  the 
ground  in  a  plum  bush.  It  was  built  on  a  horizontal 
branch  near  the  extremity,  where  twigs  branching  on 
either  side  afforded  a  firm  base.  In  hedges  the  nest  is 
almost  invariably  set  on  a  horizontal  limb  and  bound  by 
vegetable  fibers  to  one  or  more  upright  twigs.  I  have 
been  unable  to  find  any  mention  of  the  fact  that  nests  of 
this  flycatcher  are  thus  situated  upon  horizontal  branches 
in  hedges.  I  never  found  a  nest  fastened  around  the 
branch  on  which  it  was  placed.  Frequently  nests  are 
constructed  on  obliquely  ascending  limbs  where  forking 
twigs  furnish  points  of  attachment,  a  site  very  similar  to 
nesting  sites  of  the  goldfinch.  The  highest  nests  in 
hedges  are  usually  built  in  regular  crotches.  Most  of  the 
nests  of  this  species  are  found  between  five  and  eight 
feet  from  the  ground. 

There  is  little  variation  in  the  construction  of  the  nests. 
The  materials  used  hereabouts  are  grayish  vegetable  fibers, 
dried  stems  of  small  weeds,  feathers,  and  pieces  of  gossa- 
mer. The  materials  are  carried  by  the  builders  in  large 
mouthfuls,  and  hence  the  fibrous  dwelling  is  not  long  in 
process  of  fabrication.  Externally,  the  structure  has  no 
especial  appearance  of  neatness,  and  resembles  the  work 
of  the  goldfinch  and  the  yellow  warbler,  though  it  lacks 
the  compactness  of  the  nests  of  the  species  mentioned  and 
averages  rather  larger  in  its  dimensions.  The  cavity  is 
more  smoothly  finished  than  the  exterior,  usually  with 
fine  dried  grass  and  a  few  downy  feathers.  The  nests 
range  from  two  and  a  half  to  three  inches  in  diameter 
externally,  and  from  two  and  a  half  to  two  and  a  fourth 


108  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

inches  high  in  position.  The  interior  varies  in  width 
between  two  and  two  and  a  fourth  inches,  and  averages 
one  and  a  half  inches  in  depth.  Three  eggs  form  the 
complement  in  most  nests,  though  four  eggs  are  not  un- 
common. They  are  a  beautiful  creamy  white,  spotted 
with  umber  and  brownish,  chiefly  about  the  larger  end, 
though  the  markings  vary  considerably  in  size  and  posi- 
tion. In  size  they  average  .72  by  .52  of  an  inch.  Of 
twenty-three  nests  examined  by  the  writer  in  1894,  four 
held  four  eggs  each,  nine  held  three  incubated  eggs  each, 
four  contained  three  fresh  eggs  each,  and  six  contained 
three  young  each. 

I  believe  that  only  one  brood  is  reared  in  the  season  in 
this  section.  I  have  carefully  searched  for  second  nests 
without  being  successful,  and  never  found  nests  containing 
fresh  eggs  after  June  28th.  If  the  first  nest  and  eggs  are 
taken  or  harried,  a  second  attempt  at  nidification  will 
generally  be  made  in  the  vicinity  of  the  first  site. 

The  female  is  not  a  close  sitter,  and  is  seldom  surprised 
on  the  nest.  On  only  two  of  the  twenty-three  nests 
mentioned  were  the  birds  sitting,  and  these  two  were 
found  at  dusk  after  most  birds  had  retired  for  the  night; 
in  fact,  it  was  so  dark  that  the  nests  would  have  been 
overlooked  had  not  the  birds  revealed  their  homes  by 
their  hasty  flight.  When  the  nest  is  disturbed,  the  parent 
birds  frequently  flit  about  in  the  foliage  of  the  adjacent 
branches  protesting  with  their  "  queet,"  and  often  betray- 
ing much  anxiety  during  the  examination  of  their  snug 
premises.  Usually,  however,  they  appear  to  take  little 
interest  in  the  fate  of  their  home  or  family. 

The  termination  of  the  breeding  season  brings  little  or 
no  change  in  the  habits  of  these  flycatchers.  They  are 
then  more  noticeable,  as  their  ranks  have  been  recruited 
by  the  new  generation.  The  squeaky  attempts  at  singing 
or  soliloquy  are  heard  oftener  than  in  the  early  part  of 
the  season,  and  the  "  queet"  of  the  youngsters  is  louder 
and  harsher  than  the  softened,  tender  tones  of  the  older 
birds.  By  visiting  the  weedy  meadows  after  the  middle 
of  July,  we  may  have  opportunity  to  see  these  restless, 
spirited  creatures  foraging  for  insects  beyond  the  drooping 
foliage  of  the  hedge  in  which  they  have  lived  so  closely. 


Goldfinch.  10& 

Have  the  timid,  retiring  creatures  caught  the  bubbling  in- 
spiration of  the  orchard  orioles  a-swing  in  the  topmost 
twigs  of  the  hedge,  and  followed  them  from  their  thorny 
altars  to  the  meadow  mulleins  and  vervains?  Silly,  de- 
luded creatures,  to  fancy  that  their  clamatorial  "  queef 
is  a  fit  accompaniment  to  the  voluble  music  of  the  orchard 
Bohemian!  But  out  on  the  meadow  weeds  they  perch 
with  restless  manner,  head  erect,  and  alert  for  low-flying 
insects  that  they  recognize  as  their  prey,  ever  flirting 
their  tails  in  the  nervous  motion  characteristic  of  the  fly- 
catchers. Even  out  under  the  clear  dome,  with  the  blue 
bending  over  them  so  invitingly,  they  never  seek  to  rise 
above  their  accustomed  limits,  and  their  sallies  from  the 
weedtops  and  low  brush-heaps  are  never  far  or  high. 
Thus  from  one  station  to  another  they  forage  restlessly ; 
and  true  to  their  instincts,  when  disturbed  they  seek 
shelter  in  the  mazes  of  the  hedges  with  which  they  are  so 
well  acquainted.  They  depart  for  their  winter  homes  in 
tropical  regions  late  in  July,  and  after  the  first  week  of 
August  only  exceptional  loiterers  are  seen  in  this  latitude. 


GOLDFINCH. 

In  our  spring  rambles  along  the  hedgerows  we  have 
frequently  heard  the  merry  notes  of  the  goldfinch,  and  we 
have  turned  to  watch  the  gay  little  creature  rising  and 
falling  overhead  in  rhythmic  time  to  the  sweet  ditty  which 
attracted  our  attention.  Through  the  spring  and  early 
summer  he  flits  here  and  there  with  his  companions, 
fancy-led  and  care-free;  and  it  is  only  after  most  of  the 
birds  have  reared  their  broods  and  forgotten  their  songs 
that  he  begins  to  take  life  seriously  and  sets  up  his  estab- 
lishment in  the  form  of  a  down-lined  cup  on  a  con- 
venient part  of  the  hedgerow.  "What  if  he  is  dilatory  in 
arranging  his  household  ?  He  expects  to  remain  with  us 
to  give  color  to  the  winter  landscape,  after  having  scat- 
tered golden  cheer  in  the  parched  and  dusty  summer. 

The  goldfinch  is  one  of  our  few  permanent  residents, 
and  hence  he  merits  our  warm  friendship,  though  at 
times  lie  seems  to  forfeit  it  by  entering  our  gardens  with- 


110  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Bird*. 

out  our  welcome  or  consent,  and  regaling  himself  with 
the  stores  of  seeds.  In  the  extremely  heated  season,  when 
most  songsters  are  either  silent  or  heard  only  at  early 
morning  or  at  dusk,  the  goldfinch  twitters  his  merriest 
ditties  as  he  floats  overhead  on  imaginary  billows,  or 
chants  gayly  by  the  roadside  from  a  mullein  spike,  or  in 
the  garden  from  lettuce  or  sunflower  stalk.  Later  in  the 
fall,  when  one  by  one  the  birds  of  our  summer  rambles  are 
missed,  the  thistle-bird  becomes  more  abundant  than  ever, 
with  no  thought  of  forsaking  us  to  seek  a  more  pleasant 
clime.  How  can  we  fail  to  admire  his  joyful  ways,  his 
sympathetic  plaint,  and  his  fine  hardihood! 

In  the  season  of  their  greatest  animation  and  song,  we 
may  hear  the  merry  creatures  almost  at  any  time  and  at 
any  place.  Into  our  gardens  they  bound  with  joyous 
calls,  and,  swinging  on  the  heads  of  the  lettuce  and  radish 
stalks  that  were  overlooked  and  are  now  ripening  with 
seed,  they  chatteringly  manifest  their  relish  for  the 
downy  pistils;  or  upon  the  larger  disks  of  the  sunflowers, 
now  turning  black  with  their  juicy  akenes,  they  swing  on 
the  roughened  rims,  and  pick  out  the  crowded  contents. 
Even  as  we  pass  along  the  roadside,  we  hear  their  calls 
as  we  near  them,  and  see  them  balancing  on  the  heads  of 
the  thistles  growing  plentifully  beside  the  road,  pulling 
out  the  cotton-trimmed  seeds  in  pretty  manner,  and  sow- 
ing them  upon  the  breeze,  desiring  them  either  to  line 
their  gossamer-covered  homes  or  to  feed  to  their  tender 
nestlings. 

The  male  and  the  female  are  usually  together,  unless 
the  delicate  pale-blue  treasures  demand  the  brooding  of 
the  mistress  over  her  home.  Arm  in  arm  they  travel  over 
their  extensive  domains,  whiling  away  the  hours,  or  seek- 
ing the  best  of  the  bountiful  store  now  spread  for  their 
taking.  As  becomes  these  gay  revelers  of  the  late  sum- 
mer, they  are  seen  in  their  brightest  robes;  and  as  we  see 
them  seated  in  the  strong  sunlight  on  adjacent  heads  of 
thistle,  we  can  observe  the  striking  attire  of  our  little 
friends.  They  both  have  nearly  the  same  rich  lemon 
dress,  though  the  back  of  the  female  is  darker.  The  yel- 
low of  the  male  furnishes  a  rich  background  for  the  jet 
trimmings  of  his  suit;  and  the  black  wings,  tail,  and 


Goldfinch.  Ill 

jaunty  cap  stand  in  vivid  contrast  to  the  gamboge  yellow. 
In  the  sunlight  it  seems  to  us  that  the  wings  and  tail  of 
the  female  are  not  one  degree  less  jet  than  those  of  her 
spouse;  and  has  she  the  same  black  forehead?  It  seems  so 
at  first  glance,  but  it  is  only  the  jet  depths  of  her  bright 
eyes  that  cause  them  to  appear  as  though  surrounded  by 
a  circle  of  black.  And  now  away  they  go  in  perfect  ac- 
cord, bounding  upward  with  moving  wings,  and  curving 
downward  with  folded  pinions,  uttering  their  short  meas- 
ures as  they  rise  with  the  movements  of  the  wings;  and 
perhaps  circling  about  us,  they  alight  in  the  spot  from 
which  they  were  startled — joyous,  careless  creatures. 

The  goldfinch  expresses  his  joy  from  all  situations — 
either  flying  or  a-perch  on  swaying  thistle-stem  or  swing- 
ing sunflower.  I  have  seen  descriptions  of  his  singing,  in 
which  he  is  represented  as  uttering  his  flight  song  on  the 
crest  of  each  wave;  but  of  the  many  individuals  that  I 
have  heard  sing  in  Illinois,  none  sang  while  at  the  highest 
point  of  the  curves  of  its  undulating  flight.  The  ditty  is 
begun  as  the  songster  enters  the  upward  path,  and  is  ex- 
ecuted as  an  accompaniment  to  the  movement  of  the 
wings  that  carries  him  upward,  and  the  song  is  usually 
finished  before  the  crest  of  the  wave  is  reached. 

I  wonder  whether  many  bird-lovers  have  heard  the  ec- 
static love-song  of  the  goldfinch?  I  heard  it  first  on  a 
fortunate  afternoon  in  July,  and  it  lingered  in  my  mind 
for  many  a  day.  I  first  saw  the  joyous  performer  sitting 
on  one  of  the  upward  spires  of  a  small  osage  tree,  where 
he  was  chanting  his  short,  happy  measures.  Soon  he  took 
wing  and  rode  the  imaginary  aerial  waves  in  an  irregular 
circle  above  the  tree,  uttering  his  flight  song,  and  oc- 
casionally prolonging  it  into  the  voluble  chatter  that 
forms  the  longer  performances  of  this  bird.  Bound  and 
round  the  circle  he  bounded,  becoming  more  rapturous 
with  every  circuit,  until  finally  his  ecstasy  exceeded  the 
limits  of  his  little  breast,  and  he  fluttered  abruptly  up- 
ward, pouring  forth  a  stream  of  sweet,  softened,  hurried 
notes.  Thus  he  rose  for  forty  or  fifty  feet,  when  his  powers 
failed,  and  with  closed  wings  he  darted  back  to  his  original 
perch,  where  he  continued  his  bubbling  song.  Such  ex- 


112  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

hibitions  of  ecstatic  joy  are  not  seen  commonly,  and  are 
observed  only  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  nest. 

In  this  region  the  nest  of  the  goldfinch  is  seldom  furnished 
with  its  complement  of  eggs  before  the  first  of  August. 
This  late  householder  prefers  hedgerows  of  o&age  orange, 
growing  from  eight  to  fourteen  feet  high,  in  which  to 
build  his  home,  though  he  nests  in  orchards  and  in  shade 
trees,  woods,  and  shrubbery.  The  nest  is  generally  placed 
at  a  point  about  three-fourths  the  height  of  the  hedge, 
against  the  inner  side  of  an  obliquely  ascending  branch, 
where  forking  twigs  afford  a  firm  support;  but  frequently 
a  nest  is  found  saddled  upon  a  horizontal  bough.  Of 
eighteen  nests  found  and  examined  by  the  writer  in  1893, 
one  was  saddled  as  above  stated.  In  orchards  and  gar- 
dens the  goldfinch  generally  chooses  a  site  among  forking 
branches  in  younger  trees,  and  in  woods  its  home  is 
similarly  placed  in  saplings  and  smaller  growth.  In  vil- 
lages and  cities  it  finds  suitable  sites  for  nests  in  the 
maples  and  elms  along  the  streets. 

The  foundation  of  the  nest  is  woven  around  the  branch, 
and  also  around  neighboring  twigs.  The  structure  is 
made  of  fine  strips  of  bark,  dried  grass,  weed  fibers,  and 
cobweb,  nicely  rounded  into  a  compact  cup  about  three 
inches  deep  and  two  and  three-fourth  inches  in  diameter 
externally.  The  cavity  is  one  and  one-fourth  inches  deep, 
and  slightly  less  than  two  inches  across.  It  is  delicately 
and  evenly  lined  with  milkweed  and  thistle  down,  and 
sometimes  a  few  horse  hairs  and  threads,  the  latter  being 
probably  picked  up  on  excursions  to  the  door-yard.  The 
down  is  laid  in  with  such  skill  that  when  disarranged  it 
exposes  a  surprising  quantity  to  be  packed  into  a  space  so 
small;  yet  their  little  bills  have  such  a  knack  of  disposing 
it  that  nest-building  with  them  is  a  very  rapid  process, 
and  the  structure  seems  to  spring  into  existence  as  though 
by  magic.  The  eggs  are  pale  bluish  white,  rarely  spotted. 
Pour  to  six  ejjgs  form  a  complement.  They  average  .65 
by  .50  of  an  inch. 

The  home  life  of  the  goldfinch  reveals  a  wonderful  at- 
tachment existing  between  the  owners  of  the  down-lined 
establishment.  No  cavalier  of1  olden  time  ever  attended 
his  lady-love  more  devotedly  than  our  little  black-capped 


Goldfinch.  1 1 3 

friend  attends  his  mate,  whether  she  be  at  home  or 
abroad.  As  she  sits  lightly  in  her  dainty  home,  he 
swings  on  the  hedge  near  her,  and  gossips  with  her  about 
the  happenings  of  his  late  quest  for  lettuce  and  sunflower 
seeds.  Indeed,  he  need  not  go  far  in  search  of  food;  for  at 
the  base  of  the  hedge  below  the  nest  the  pink  tufts  of  the 
thistles  have  already  ripened  to  brown,  and  he  need  only 
to  flutter  down  from  the  side  of  his  mate  and  gather  from 
the  stores.  Near  the  site  of  the  nest  they  flutter  and 
chant;  and  when  the  gentle  mistress  leaves  her  cares  for 
a  brief  run  about  the  neighborhood,  he  bounds  along  at 
her  side  to  attend  and  interest  her.  When  the  young 
gladden  the  hearts  of  the  patient  pair,  they  curve  away 
from  the  nest  in  company  to  gather  the  downy  food 
relished  by  the  hungry  brood,  and,  returning  together  to 
the  nest,  they  utter  their  sweetly  plaintive  notes  a-perch 
of  adjacent  branches. 

The  anxiety  of  the  female  is  eloquently  expressed  by 
the  syllables  "pee-pee,"  repeated  at  intervals,  uttered  in  a 
wonderfully  touching  and  appealing  manner;  and  it  is 
probable  that  the  specific  name  tristis  was  given  to  the 
species  from  the  sadness  clearly  expressed  in  the  tender 
plaint.  Frequently  she  says  "pee"  several  times,  and 
follows  it  by  her  sweetly  uttered  "pee-pee,"  executed  with 
greater  force  and  sympathy.  The  male  is  generally  close 
at  hand,  and  he  adds  his  plaintive  calls  to  the  sad  ex- 
pressions of  his  mate. 

When  the  youngsters,  grown  until  they  find  the  little 
habitation  too  crowded  for  further  occupancy,  are  ready 
to  leave  their  home,  the  little  family  goes  forth  to  swing 
all  day  upon  thistle-head,  sunflower,  and  ragweed  stem, 
along  roadside,  railroad,  and  in  garden — united,  loving, 
and  happy.  It  is  one  of  the  pleasant  sights  of  the  late 
fall  to  observe  the  happy  parents  leading  forth  their 
younglings  after  the  nest  has  served  its  purpose.  The 
merry  youngsters  bound  from  one  thistle-head  to  another, 
and  the  gentle  call  notes  of  the  fond  elders  suggest  the 
lessons  they  fain  would  impart  to  the  careless  hearts 
flocking  about  them.  The  roving  life  has  commenced,  but 
the  family  ties  are  not  to  be  broken,  and  the  chill  winds 
and  freezing  snows  will  only  tend  to  bind  more  closely 


114  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

the  harmonious  circle.  Little  do  they  regret  their  sum- 
mer beds  of  down,  so  long  as  alder  and  sumach  swamps 
satisfy  their  hunger  and  furnish  them  shelter  for  the 
night.  Happy  were  we  could  we  face  the  darker  side  of 
life  so  merrily  and  boldly  as  our  little  friends  the  gold- 
finches! 

We  are  glad  that  we  are  not  to  lose  the  companionship 
of  the  charming  little  goldfinch  at  the  approach  of  frosty 
blasts.  However,  he  prepares  for  the  more  serious  side  of 
life,  for  he  seems  to  know  that  it  is  no  holiday  matter  to 
face  the  breath  of  winter,  even  in  this  temperate  latitude. 
As  the  schoolboy  feels  the  impropriety  of  his  straw  hat 
and  the  youth  his  russet  shoes  on  the  approach  of  frosty 
weather,  so  the  little  reveler  of  the  spent  summer  ap- 
parently realizes  that  his  bright  colors  must  be  laid  away 
until  the  flow  of  the  tide  of  life.  Late  in  October  and 
early  in  November  he  falls  into  accord  with  the  changing 
mood  of  nature,  and  sensibly  dons  a  suit  more  in  keeping 
with  the  life  he  is  to  lead  in  weedy  patches  and  swamps, 
or  wherever  he  can  find  food.  With  his  small  family  or 
a  little  company,  often  with  hundreds  of  companions,  he 
resorts  to  such  localities  as  furnish  seeds  for  the  taking. 
If  he  were  not  such  a  persistent  little  gleaner,  we  should 
then  call  him  a  tramp!  He  is,  however,  only  adjusting 
himself  to  the  changed  times;  and  in  his  brown  overalls 
and  jacket  he  works  sturdily  for  his  daily  fare,  and 
whistles  merrily  as  he  labors. 

Our  little  friends  have  learned  to  be  merry,  whatever 
their  lot;  and  even  in  the  depths  of  winter  they  call  at 
times  as  gayly  as  in  the  warmth  of  July  and  August.  In 
the  winter  they  share  their  joys  and  sorrows  as  before 
with  their  unbroken  families,  and  in  their  resorts  they 
find  others  of  their  kind  gleaning  the  stores  from  the 
weed-tops.  Frequently  the  merry  chatter  of  scores  and 
even  hundreds  of  the  brown-clad  gleaners  can  be  heard  in 
the  weed  patches,  and  wo  are  perhaps  surprised  to  learn 
that  the  late  summer  revelers  have  been  transformed  into 
winter  harvesters.  They  are  merry  Bohemians  now,  and 
wander  here  and  there  in  troops,  remaining  in  any 
locality  while  their  food  is  uncovered  of  snow,  and  flit- 
ting to  another  neighborhood  at  the  failure  of  their  stores. 


The  Cuckoos.  115 

Surely  if  they  are  e^er  tristis  it  should  be  when  their 
wintry  fare  is  under  the  drifted  snow;  but  even  then  their 
gay  calls  mingle  in  the  swamps  with  the  tinkling  notes  of 
the  juncos  and  tree  sparrows,  and  their  manners  are 
much  the  same  as  in  the  old  summer  days,  excepting  the 
courting  and  nest-building  and  home-life — all  fountains 
of  song  and  gladness.  Why  should  they  be  sad?  They 
know  that  spring  will  soon  plant  the  dandelions  over  the 
transformed  face  of  the  meadows;  and  when  the  cottony 
seeds  supplant  the  yellow  of  the  spreading  rays,  the  old 
life  of  song  and  revelry  will  begin  anew.  Sitting  on  the 
ripened  disks  of  the  dandelions,  they  can  again  pull  apart 
the  downy  pistils  and  sow  them  upon  the  warming 
southern  breezes,  and  bound  here  and  there  in  the  sun- 
shine that  they  Jove  so  well.  They  know  that  they,  too, 
like  the  Cinderella  of  our  childhood,  have  a  fairy  god- 
mother who  will  transform  their  winter  robes  of  brown 
into  the  brilliant  robes  they  formerly  wore,  and  under 
her  magic  wand  their  rusty  garbs  will  glow  with  the 
lemon  and  jet.  Thus  they  are  ever  happy,  scattering 
cheer  amid  the  gloom  of  winter  as  well  as  in  the  bright- 
ness of  summer,  and  winning  their  way  into  the  friend- 
ship of  every  lover  of  nature. 


THE    CUCKOOS. 

To  one  who  regularly  studies  the  manners  of  the 
tenants  of  the  hedgerows,  the  slender,  lithe  forms,  and 
the  coarse,  guttural  notes  of  the  cuckoos  become  charac- 
teristics of  the  avian  life  of  the  osage  orange  rows.  How- 
ever, owing  to  their  reserved  disposition,  secluded  habits, 
and  noiseless,  owl-like  flight,  these  shy  denizens  of  our 
hedges,  woods,  groves,  parks,  and  orchards  are  strangers 
to  most  persons  not  specially  interested  in  the  birds. 
Their  hollow,  croaking  notes,  heard  in  the  summer  from 
the  shade  trees  of  our  streets  and  parks  at  all  hours  of 
day  and  even  at  night,  are  popularly  thought  to  portend 
rain,  which  belief  has  suggested  for  them,  and  particularly 
for  the  yellow-billed  species,  the  titles  of"  rain-crow"  and 
•'rain-dove."  Throughout  June,  1893,  the  calls  of  these 


116  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

birds  were  very  noticeable  at  ray  home,  yet  in  the  whole 
month  we  had  no  rain  there.  On  the  night  of  the  23d  of 
June,  while  I  was  out  in  the  open  air  at  9:30,  watching  an 
ominous  cloud  that  was  rolling  up  in  the  west,  the  weird 
notes  of  a  rain-crow  fell  on  my  ears  like  the  exultant 
laugh  of  a  storm  demon.  However,  the  omen  failed,  for 
the  threatening  cloud  passed  over,  and  left  us  as  dry  as 
we  were  before  its  appearance.  Usually  the  guttural  calls 
of  these  birds  are  the  only  indications  of  their  presence. 
Frequently,  however,  one  is  seen  flying  toward  grove  or 
tree  with  graceful,  level  flight,  uttering  its  notes  as  it 
nears  its  stopping-place.  They  generally  fly  low,  the  line 
of  flight  commonly  being  no  higher  than  the  middle  point 
of  the  foliage  of  average-sized  elms  and  maples. 

The  yellow-billed  cuckoo  inhabits  all  the  United  States, 
but  it  is  found  in  limited  numbers  in  the  extreme  west 
and  north,  for  its  range  appears  to  tend  towards  the  east 
and  south.  In  central  and  southern  Illinois  it  largely  pre- 
ponderates over  its  black-billed  relative,  which  seems  to 
complement  the  range  of  the  former  by  increasing  in 
abundance  toward  the  north,  though  both  are  generally 
found  in  the  same  locality  in  the  United  States.  The 
black-billed  species  appears  to  preponderate  from  Penn- 
sylvania northward,  extending  its  habitat  into  Labrador. 
These  tardy  birds  seldom  arrive  in  this  region  (39  degrees, 
20  minutes)  earlier  than  the  first  of  May,  and  frequently 
they  linger  on  their  way,  and  we  note  their  absence  until 
the  middle  of  May.  Exceptionally  early  migrants,  how- 
ever, sometimes  come  to  us  in  the  last  week  of  April. 

In  their  nidification  the  cuckoos  are  famous  for  their  ir- 
regular and  slovenly  habits.  The  interval  between  the 
laying  of  the  successive  eggs  is  often  so  prolonged  that 
frequently  the  eggs  earliest  deposited  are  hatched  when 
the  later  eggs  are  yet  fresh.  Nests  are  found  containing 
eggs  in  various  stages  of  incubation,  and  sometimes  the 
eggs  of  both  species  are  laid  in  one  nest.  Both  species  are 
occasionally  parasitic,  dropping  an  egg  now  and  then  into 
the  nest  of  another  bird,  though  their  own  nests  have  al- 
ready been  constructed.  The  period  of  nesting  in  this 
locality  extends  from  the  first  of  June  to  the  middle  of 
September,  and  doubtless  two  broods  are  often  reared.  I 


The  Cuckoos.  117 

believe  that  individuals  nesting  later  in  the.  season  are 
more  regular  in  depositing  and  incubating  their  eggs  than 
the  owners  of  earlier  establishments.  My  record  of  August 
nests  for  1893  shows  more  regularity  in  nidification  than 
is  generally  credited  to  these  birds.  Some  observers  re- 
port that  the  females  often  lay  their  eggs  while  the  nest  is 
unfinished,  the  male  adding  to  the  structure  while  the 
female  incubates — a  fact  observed  in  the  domestic  economy 
of  the  ruby-throated  humming-bird  and  certain  other 
species. 

In  this  locality  the  yellow-billed  cuckoo  nests  in  hedge- 
rows of  osage  orange,  and  in  groves,  orchards,  woods,  and 
thickets,  and  in  the  ornamental  and  shade  trees  of  parks 
and  streets.  Orchards,  thickets,  and  shrubbery  in  swampy 
tracts  are  selected  by  the  black-billed  species,  it  appearing 
to  nest  in  bushes  and  lower  growth  more  frequently  than 
its  yellow-billed  relative.  The  species  preponderating  in 
any  locality  appears  to  be  more  familiar  in  its  habits,  the 
other  retiring  to  the  dense  swamps,  thickets,  and  woods  to 
rear  its  young.  Hedgerows  long  untrimmed,  sending  out 
large  horizontal  branches,  furnish  preferable  sites;  and 
the  structure  is  placed  where  intersecting  twigs  form  a 
firm  support,  at  a  distance  of  five  to  eight  feet  from  the 
ground.  In  trees  the  nests  are  placed  higher,  though 
generally  the  site  is  on  a  horizontal  branch,  where  diverg- 
ing limbs  give  an  assurance  of  safety.  Nests  placed  in 
bushes  vary  in  situation  from  the  top  of  the  bush  to  a  foot 
from  the  ground. 

As  a  rule,  the  nest  is  a  very  shallow,  flimsy  affair,  and 
resembles  the  .hastily  constructed  nest  of  the  mourning 
dove,  both  in  composition  and  construction.  It  is  made  of 
coarse  dead  sticks  and  roots,  laid  loosely  together,  with  a 
very  little  dried  grass,  or  several  soft  dried  leaves,  inter- 
mixed in  the  middle  for  lining.  There  is  wide  variation 
in  the  amount  of  material  used  in  different  nests,  and  per- 
haps the  greater  number  lack  any  lining  whatever,  being 
so  frail  that  the  eggs  can  be  seen  from  below.  The  black- 
billed  species  appears  to  have  a  clearer  idea  of  strength 
and  durability,  judging  from  its  work,  than  the  yellow- 
billed  cuckoo.  Occasional  nests  show  considerable  effort 
on  the  part  of  the  builders.  One  of  the  best  specimens  of 


118  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

cuckoo  architecture  I  ever  found,  the  work  of  a  yellow- 
billed  cuckoo,  was  made  of  sticks  and  roots  of  weeds,  in- 
terwoven with  which  were  dried  corn-husks,  grapevine 
bark,  and  dried  leaves.  The  cavity  was  three  inches 
across  and  one  inch  deep.  I  took  this  nest  and  its  three 
eggs,  and  five  days  later  I  found  a  new  structure  near  the 
location  of  the  first,  containing  two  fresh  eggs.  This 
second  nest  was  made  of  twigs  and  many  stalks  of  the 
bloom  of  Indian  corn,  and  a  bunch  of  corn  silk  two  inches 
thick  for  bedding.  The  materials  were  close  at  hand 
along  the  hedge.  This  may  be  called  energetic  work  even 
for  species  less  dilatory  than  the  cuckoos. 

The  eggs  of  the  yellow-billed  cuckoo  are  light  green  in 
color,  and  average  in  size  .90  by  1.30  inches,  varying 
much,  however,  in  different  complements  and  in  different 
eggs  of  the  same  set.  The  eggs  of  the  black-billed  cuckoo 
are  a  darker  greenish  hue,  and  average  .80  by  1.10  inches, 
exhibiting  the  same  variations  in  size  as  those  of  its 
relative,  so  that  generally  the  eggs  of  the  two  species  can 
not  with  certainty  be  distinguished  by  size.  The  number 
in  a  complement  varies  from  one  to  six,  though  three  and 
four  are  the  usual  numbers.  I  have  frequently  found  the 
cuckoo  industriously  incubating  a  single  egg  which  was 
ready  to  hatch,  and  again  a  friend  of  mine  once  found  a 
nest  containing  six  eggs  which  were  nearly  fresh. 

The  cuckoos  when  incubating  are  either  fearless  or 
unsuspicious  of  danger,  as  they  can  usually  be  approached 
by  a  cautious  observer  to  within  arm's  length, thus  allowing 
positive  identification  of  the  species.  The  yellow-billed 
cuckoo  may  be  known  by  its  having  the  lower  mandible, 
except  the  tip,  yellow,  as  well  as  the  cutting  edges  of  the 
upper  mandible,  while  the  black-billed  species  has  the 
bill  entirely  black.  When  approached  from  behind,  the 
bird  on  its  nest  closely  resembles  the  mourning  dove,  the 
long  tail  with  white  under  parts  and  the  carelessly  built 
nest  furthering  the  resemblance.  Frightened  from  its 
nest  by  the  motions  of  the  intruder  or  by  other  means, 
the  bird  glides  silently  to  a  neighboring  branch,  and  soon 
betakes  herself  away  with  low,  even  flight.  No  noisy 
fluttering  about  the  spot  nor  other  signs  of  apprehension 
mark  the  actions  of  these  singular  birds,  as  is  usual  with 


The  Cuckoos.  119 

most  birds  when  their  homes  are  disturbed  by  the  prying 
bird-lover. 

It  may  seem  paradoxical  that  creatures  so  proverbially 
lax  and  dilatory  in  their  domestic  arrangements  as  the 
cuckoos,  are  endowed  with  maternal  instincts  as  strong 
as  the  birds  more  markedly  regular  in  their  family  duties. 
When  circumstances  give  them  occasion,  however,  the 
mother  cuckoos  discover  a  regard  for  the  welfare  of  their 
offspring  deeply  rooted  in  their  hearts,  and  at  times  they 
seem  to  suffer  intense  anxiety  when  the  safety  of  their 
helpless  younglings  is  at  stake.  Once  in  the  middle  of 
September  I  chanced  upon  a  young  yellow-billed  cuckoo 
fluttering  against  the  panes  of  a  small  window  in  an  out- 
house. He  had  entered  through  the  door  which  stood 
open  within  a  yard  of  the  window,  but  the  latter  was 
higher  than  the  door,  and  like  most  birds  that  unwittingly 
enter  a  room,  he  sought  escape  at  the  highest  opening. 
When  I  captured  the  frightened  straggler,  though  I 
handled  him  as  tenderly  as  his  nervous  actions  would 
admit,  and  sought  by  gentle  treatment  to  quiet  his  ground- 
less fears,  he  struggled  desperately  in  my  hand  and 
screamed  piteously  in  a  sharp,  squealing  tone.  On  taking 
him  into  the  open  air,  I  noted  that  his  plumage  was  yet 
undeveloped,  and  I  wondered  at  the  tardy  nidification  of 
the  parents. 

The  shrill  cries  of  the  youngster  must  have  sent  a  pang 
of  distress  through  the  heart  of  the  mother,  who  was 
lurking  among  the  foliage  of  an  adjacent  tree,  and  she 
glided  into  view  in  the  lower  shrubbery,  determined  to 
make  an  effort  to  secure  the  release  of  her  unfortunate 
offspring.  Low  among  the  stems  of  the  bushes  she  reeled, 
fluttering  her  slender  wings  and  vibrating  her  frail  body 
as  though  about  to  fall  upon  her  side  at  every  movement 
she  made.  As  the  cries  of  the  young  bird  became  more 
appealing,  they  touched  a  yet  deeper  chord  of  love  in  the 
parent's  heart.  She  glided  yet  nearer  before  turning 
away,  croaking  her  characteristic  call  and  fluttering  from 
one  low  perch  to  another  somewhat  farther,  to  entice  me 
to  pursue  her  and  forsake  the  hapless  object  of  her  affec- 
tions. It  was  indeed  a  touching  appeal,  and  I  regretted 
that  I  had  held  the  little  unfortunate  so  long,  though  the 


120  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

event  had  revealed  a  depth  of  maternal  devotion  i  hud 
not  suspected  to  exist.  When  I  released  him  the  young- 
ster glided  away  over  her  head  and  the  parent  darted 
after  him,  now  soothing  him  with  the  same  guttural  call, 
doubtless  full  of  meaning  to  his  youthful  ear. 

The  highly  beneficial  character  of  the  cuckoos  in  their 
economical  relations  has  been  clearly  demonstrated.  An 
examination  of  the  food  of  a  black-billed  cuckoo  by  Prof. 
S.  A.  Forbes  revealed  the  fact  that  three-fourths  of  its 
rations  consisted  of  cankerworms,  and  an  additional  twenty 
per  cent,  was  made  up  of  other  caterpillars.  I  once 
startled  a  yellow-billed  cuckoo  from  the  ground  at  the 
base  of  a  low  ornamental  hedge  along  the  sidewalk  in  the 
resident  portion  of  my  native  village.  The  bird  flew  up 
from  the  space  between  the  walk  and  the  hedge,  just  at 
my  side.  As  it  fluttered  over  the  walk  and  alighted  in 
the  road  about  twenty  feet  from  me,  I  saw  the  silvery 
gleaming,  gray  abdomen  of  an  insect,  which  the  bird  held 
in  its  bill  and  which  I  easily  identified  as  a  harvest-fly, 
when  the  cuckoo  turned  its  head  to  watch  my  movements. 
At  that  moment  several  chickens  ran  up  to  take  the  bug 
from  the  bird,  whereupon  the  latter  flew  away  with  its 
prey,  and  this  time  it  passed  out  of  my  sight  among  the 
trees  in  a  neighboring  yard. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  the  cuckoos  prey  on  vari- 
ous species  of  large  hairy  caterpillars  which  few  birds  will 
touch.  Insects,  however,  do  not  comprise  their  entire  bill 
of  fare.  The  yellow-billed  cuckoo  is  noted  as  feeding  on 
black  and  white  mulberries  (see  Eeport  of  the  Secretary 
of  Agriculture,  1890,  page  285),  and  it  may  doubtless  be 
found  to  feed  upon  other  similar  fruits.  Its  habits  in 
gardens  and  orchards  should  be  carefully  watched  that 
reliable  data  may  be  obtained  concerning  this  point. 


IV.— BIRDS   OF    THE    BUSHES. 

"  The  birds  around  me  hopp'd  and  play'd, 

Their  thoughts  I  can  not  measure- 
But  the  least,  motion  which  they  made 
It  seem'd  a  thrill  of  pleasure." 

—WORDSWORTH. 

IN  his  "  Tragedies  of  the  Nests,"  the  naturalist  and 
poet- essayist,  John  Burroughs,  asserts  that  a  line  five  feet 
from  the  ground  would  run  above  more  than  half  the 
nests,  and  one  ten  feet  would  bound  more  than  three- 
fourths  of  them. 

The  observations  of  students  of  bird-life  have  verified 
the  fact  that  most  of  the  birds  build  in  low  situations. 
The  bushes  along  the  country  roadsides  and  in  the  woods, 
and  bordering  the  ditches  and  streams  of  our  prairie 
regions,  have  a  great  number  of  feathered  tenants,  which 
are  quite  likely  to  escape  the  notice  of  the  unobservant. 
The  trained  observer,  however,  seldom  passes  such  shelters 
without  inspecting  them,  and  thus  he  finds  interesting  ob- 
jects of  study  where  the  uninitiated  would  not  even  sus- 
pect their  existence.  Some  of  the  birds  of  the  bushes  are 
so  familiar  in  manners  and  attractive  in  attire  that  they  are 
comparatively  well  known;  while  others  equally  abun- 
dant are  seldom  noted,  having  shyer  dispositions,  and 
little  glow  of  color  in  their  plumage. 


THE   SONG   SPAEEOW. 

Along  the  road  from  my  home  to  the  school  building  in 
ray  native  village — a  road  over  which  my  chosen  vocation 
daily  called  me  for  the  greater  portion  of  the  year — was 
an  old  mill.  A  few  years  ago  the  structure  was  removed, 
leaving  the  site  vacant  beside  the  pond  which  furnished 

(121) 


122  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

water  for  the  mill  engine.  Around  the  margin  of  the 
neglected  pond  soon  appeared  a  growth  of  weeds  and 
bramble,  new  forms  soon  flitted  about  the  spot,  and  now 
the  vicinity  is  melodious  through  the  spring  and  summer 
with  the  chanting  of  the  song  sparrows.  Thenceforth 
it  became  a  part  of  my  daily  experience  to  enjoy 
the  morning  effusions  of  these  persistent  songsters  when  1 
passed  the  spot,  from  early  March  to  late  August.  Lead- 
ing from  the  mill-pond  is  a  shallow  rivulet,  which  tra- 
verses the  neighboring  gai'dens  on  its  way  to  the  broad 
meadows  bordering  the  village.  In  the  gardens  other 
song  sparrows  dwelt,  and  from  the  top  of  fence-post,  stake, 
bush  or  tree  almost  incessantly  arose  the  "plee-plee-plee" 
and  accompanying  cadenza  of  the  tireless  musicians.  Near 
my  home  was  a  garden  of  a  fruit-grower,  whose  raspberry 
and  blackberry  bushes  formed  a  desirable  resort  for  many 
feathered  songsters.  There  the  song  sparrows  led  a  happy 
and  unmolested  existence  under  the  protection  of  the 
flapping  scare-crows. 

Along  the  brushy  borders  of  the  lazy  creek  north  of  the 
village  the  song  sparrow  first  sought  to  enter  the  circle 
of  my  bird  friends,  and  I  was  not  slow  in  responding  to 
the  claims  of  the  energetic,  nervous  little  songster.  His 
streaky  form  and  happy  voice  were  additional  charms  to 
the  stream-side  along  which  I  so  frequently  wandered. 
How  could  I  resist  those  generous  measures,  welling  up 
from  a  heart  made  happy  by  the  cozy  home  under  a 
chosen  brush-heap?  Or  how  could  I  watch  my  idle  cork 
when  the  restless  movements  of  my  little  friend  claimed 
my  attention,  as  he  shifted  his  station  from  one  vantage- 
point  to  another?  Thus  led  by  the  witchery  of  the  little 
brown -coated  songster,  I  frequently  strolled  along  the 
haunts  made  brighter  by  his  presence;  and  in  the  inviting 
shade  of  some  favorite  fishing  station  I  whiled  away  the 
time  between  the  slow  "bites"  by  listening  to  the  voices 
and  observing  the  movements  of  my  avian  friends.  The 
leafless  branches  of  a  deadened  tree,  prone  in  the  water 
near  my  retreat,  formed  a  favored  place  from  which  a 
particular  male  song  sparrow  uttered  his  ditties.  I  soon 
learned  to  know  his  voice  and  appearance.  Flitting  to  a 
perch  among  the  branches,  sometimes  almost  whirled  be- 


The  Song  Sparrow.  123 

yond  the  contemplated  station  by  the  strong  summer 
wind,  he  would  repeat  his  strains  many  times  within  a 
few  feet  of  me,  apparently  regardless  of  my  proximity. 
Then  he  would  flit  farther  along  the  stream,  and  sing  for 
another  period  from  another  situation.  Presently  I  might 
hear  him  rustling  among  the  shrubbery  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  stream.  I  would  see  him  hopping  daintily 
along  the  water  line,  gleaning  morsels  for  his  afternoon 
lunch.  Sometimes  he  would  take  an  afternoon  bath,  after 
which  he  would  flit  to  his  station  in  the  warm  sunshine, 
where  he  would  preen  himself  carefully  and  utter  his 
pleasure  in  his  happy  lot.  Sometimes  I  would  lose  sight 
and  sound  of  him  lor  a  time,  but  later  the  familiar  voice 
would  arise  from  a  convenient  situation  near  me,  and  thus 
he  sang  his  way  into  my  warmest  friendship. 

The  song  sparrow  abounds  in  eastern  United  States  and 
British  Provinces,  ranging  westward  to  the  edge  of  the 
great  plains,  breeding  throughout  its  habitat.  Eobert 
Kidgway  states  that  it  winters  from  about  the  fiftieth 
parallel  to  the  Gulf  Coast.  (Natural  History  Survey  of 
Illinois,  Yol.  1,  page  283.)  He  also  says  that  it  is  known 
in  the  more  southern  portions  of  Illinois  only  as  a  winter 
resident.  "As  far  north  at  least  as  Wabash,  Lawrence, 
and  Eichland  Counties  in  this  State,  the  Song  Sparrow 
makes  its  appearance  in  the  fall  along  with  the  White- 
throated  and  Swamp  Sparrows,  and  remains  all  winter  in 
company  with  these  and  other  species,  departing  with 
them  in  the  spring.  I  have  there  heard  its  song  on  but 
two  or  three  occasions,  and  then  only  in  the  spring,  just 
before  they  took  their  departure." 

In  this  locality  of  central  Illinois  the  song  sparrow  is 
one  of  the  common  species.  While  not  familiar  after  the 
manner  of  the  robin,  bluebird,  house  wren,  and  chipping 
sparrow,  it  haunts  bushy  gardens  near  habitations  and 
exhibits  no  spirit  of  shyness  when  in  the  vicinity  of  man. 
While  fishing  along  the  streams  it  frequents  I  have  known 
it  to  perch  within  a  few  feet  of  me  and  pour  forth  its 
notes  regardless  of  my  presence,  though  clearly  aware  of 
my  proximity.  Mr.  Eidgway  states  that  in  southern 
Illinois  the  song  sparrow  is  "  very  retiring,  inhabiting 
almost  solely  the  bushy  swamps  in  the  bottom  land,  and 


124  Sketches  of  Sonic   Common   Birds. 

unknown  as  a  song  bird.  The  same  are  probably  ii-s 
habits  throughout  Illinois  and  adjacent  regions." 

In  this  region  the  song  sparrow  appears  early,  closely 
following  the  bluebird,  robin,  and  meadow  lark,  and 
singing  from  the  first  morning  of  its  arrival  its  sweet  and 
varied  cadences.  Very  few  of  the  days  of  late  February 
or  early  March,  whose  genial  sunshine  heralds  the  spring, 
are  allowed  to  pass  before  it  comes  chanting  from  regions 
farther  south  where  it  has  been  strangely  silent  and 
retired.  Thus  we  class  the  song  sparrow  among  the 
earliest  of  our  spring  songsters.  It  is  certainly  one  of 
the  most  persistent,  for  daily  through  the  spring  and 
summer  it  practices  its  strains  at  its  accustomed  stands, 
when  many  other  species  have  long  been  silent  or 
else  have  departed  from  our  latitude.  The  gener- 
ous measure  of  its  melody  has  done  more  than  the 
quality  of  its  music  to  render  this  sparrow  a  favorite  ;  and 
its  hardy  facing  of  March  winds  and  storms  to  enliven 
this  ordinarily  disagreeable  month,  adds  to  the  estimation 
in  which  the  song  sparrow  is  commonly  held.  However, 
in  Illinois  this  familiar  bird  appears  to  be  somewhat  neg- 
lected. Its  song  is  loud  and  cheery,  and  it  comes  into  our 
gardens  and  door-yards  to  sing  and  to  rear  its  brood,  yet 
few  persons  it  thus  favors  with  its  music  and  presence  are 
well  acquainted  with  the  hardy  author  of  the  chant  which 
so  frequently  greets  their  ears. 

There  is  a  wonderful  variation  in  the  songs  of  two 
individuals  and  even  in  the  songs  of  the  same  bird. 
Frequently  I  have  heard  two  males  near  each  other  sing- 
ing strains  so  unlike  that  I  was  impelled  to  believe  that 
the  songsters  were  of  different  species.  The  ordinary 
song  begins  with  three  or  four  repetitions  of  the  syllable 
"  plee,"  followed  by  a  cadenza  variously  accented  and 
executed  in  more  rapid  time  than  the  opening  notes  of 
the  song,  usually  in  a  regularly  ascending  scale.  After 
the  conspicuous  silence  of  the  birds  we  long  to  hear,  the 
voice  of  the  song  sparrow  to  the  bird-lover  is  wonderfully 
attractive,  and  possesses  a  charm  not  based  upon  its  in- 
trinsic merit  as  a  musical  production. 

The  song  sparrow  is  truly  a  bird  of  the  bushes  and  the 
tangle,  but  whether  in  town  or  country  makes  no  differ- 


The  Song  Sparrow,  1 25 

ence  to  the  little  songster  of  early  spring.  Mounting  to 
the  summit  of  a  small  tree,  or  perched  on  a  fencepost  or 
convenient  stake,  it  proudly  erects  its  bead,  and  with  tail 
pendent  it  chants  regularly  throughout  the  day.  On  it&. 
northward  migration  it  sings  from  gardens,  hedgerows, 
and  low  trees  in  all  situations,  it  and  the  meadow  lark 
filling  our  suburban  and  rural  districts  with  incessant 
melody  through  the  first  three  weeks  of  March,  unless  the 
weather  be  unusually  severe.  Later,  it  resorts  to  the 
haunts  already  described,  and  only  near  its  nesting-places 
is  its  chanting  heard,  unabated  during  the  period  of 
incubation  and  family  cares.  Even  during  the  drought 
and  heat  of  summer  it  does  not  neglect  to  practice  its 
chant  from  the  familiar  perch. 

The  nesting  habits  of  the  song  sparrow  are  well  known 
to  its  intimate  friends.  Bushes,  brushpiles,  and  tussocks 
of  grass  along  the  banks  of  streams  and  ponds,  and  along 
hedges  and  roadsides  are  generally  chosen  for  early  sites, 
though  bushes  in  gardens  and  pastures  are  not  neglected. 
In  fact,  the  nest  of  this  species  has  been  reported  in  almost 
every  sort  of  situation  below  fifteen  feet  above  ground,  in 
trees,  and  even  in  cavities  in  orchard  and  forest  trees. 
The  majority  of  the  nests  are  placed  on  the  ground  in 
grassy  nooks  among  twigs  of  fallen  branches.  Where 
hedges  along  ditches  have  been  trimmed,  and  the  brush 
has  lain  neglected  in  the  grass,  the  song  sparrow  finds 
convenient  sites  for  its  lowly  home.  In  "  Birds  Through 
an  Opera  Glass,"  Miss  Merriam  says:  "In  choosing  the 
site  for  its  nest,  the  song  sparrow  adapts  itself  to  circum- 
stances with  the  grace  of  a  true  philosopher.  At  one  time 
content  with  making  a  rude  mat  of  straw  at  the  bottom 
of  a  roadside  brush  heap,  at  another  it  builds  in  a  willow, 
using  the  woolly  catkins  to  soften  the  bed  ;  and  frequently 
it  nests  right  on  the  ground,  when  the  farmers  call  it  the 
'ground  sparrow.'  But  the  prettiest  site  of  any  I  have 
known  was  in  a  sweetbriar  bush  on  the  edge  of  the 
garden.  Here  the  mother  could  be  lulled  into  her  noon- 
day nap  by  the  droning  of  the  bumble-bees  buzzing  about 
the  garden;  or,  if  she  chose',  watch  the  fluttering  butter- 
flies and  quivering  humming  birds  hovering  over  the 
bright  flowers.  Every  breath  of  air  brought  her  the 


126  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

perfume  of  the  briar  leaves,  and  when  the  pink  buds 
unfolded  she  could  tell  off  the  days  of  her  brooding  by  the 
petals  that  fluttered  to  the  ground." 

The  nest  is  formed  outwardly  of  coarse  materials,  such 
as  corn  husks,  stems  of  weeds  and  grasses,  twigs,  and 
rootlets.  There  is  usually  an  intermediate  layer  of  finer 
dried  grasses  and  an  inner  lining  of  horsehair.  The 
cavity  averages  two  and  a  half  by  three  inches  in  diam- 
eter, and  two  inches  in  depth.  It  is  a  firm  structure, 
generally  fashioned  while  the  materials  are  damp,  thus 
rendering  the  affair  more  compact  and  durable  after  it 
dries  in  position.  The  eggs  number  from  four  to  six,  and 
are  light  bluish-green,  spotted  with  various  shades  of 
brown,  the  larger  end  commonly  having  the  spots  more 
noticeable  and  often  forming  a  wreath.  Davie  states  that 
they  range  from  .75  to  .85  of  an  inch  in  length,  and  from 
.55  to  .60  of  an  inch  in  breadth. 

When  disturbed  in  incubating  and  startled  from  her 
nest,  the  female  hops  or  flies  about  with  gentle  "  pip  "  of 
reproof,  the  male  adding  to  her  remonstrances  against  the 
intrusion  of  their  quiet  home.  When  the  intruder  has 
departed,  the  low  chirping  gives  place  to  the  accustomed 
chant  of  joy  and  peace. 

In  this  locality  the  song  sparrows  cease  to  sing  about 
the  twentieth  of  August.  They  resort  in  families  to  the 
bushy  margins  of  water-courses,  and  to  weedy  patches, 
brush  heaps,  and  hedges,  associating  with  young  towhees 
and  wrens.  From  the  middle  to  the  last  of  October 
migrant  song  sparrows  are  seen  in  their  haunts,  shy  and 
silent,  skulking  in  the  bushes  and  weeds,  feeding  on  dried 
berries  of  the  sumach  in  woods  and  along  roadsides,  and 
on  the  seeds  of  various  weeds.  They  perhaps  at  times 
feed  on  the  small  berries  of  the  gardens  they  frequent,  as 
the  species  is  mentioned  by  Dr.  C.  Hart  Merriam  in  a 
partial  list  of  birds  which  feed  on  mulberries,  actually 
observed  by  Dr.  A.  K.  Fisher  and  himself.  (Eeport  of 
the  Secretary  of  Agriculture,  1890,  page  285.) 

As  quoted  from  Hobert  Kidgway,  the  autumnal  migra- 
tions of  the  song  sparrow  are  made  in  company  with  the 
white-throated  sparrow,  the  swamp  sparrow,  the  fox  spar- 
row, and  other  related  species.  They  leave  this  locality 


Towhee.  127 

about  the  first  of  November.  The  white-throated  and 
the  fox  sparrow  remain  in  our  latitude,  though  the  latter 
is  seldom  seen  in  the  mid-winter  and  evidently  journeys 
farther  south  to  avoid  the  severest  weather.  In  1894  I 
saw  the  last  song  sparrow  of  the  season  on  the  10th  of 
November,  a  solitary  individual  sitting  in  the  top  of  a 
brush  heap.  When  the  familiar  "  plee "  was  wafted  to 
my  ears,  I  eagerly  yet  quietly  pushed  through  the  bushes 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  belated  traveler,  and  soon  espied 
him,  chanting  as  blithely  as  in  early  spring.  He  had  no 
desire  to  have  an  auditor,  however,  singing  apparently  for 
his  own  pleasure,  and,  becoming  aware  of  my  interest  in 
his  actions,  he  flitted  into  an  adjacent  hedge  and  again 
sang  as  before.  Upon  a  further  interruption,  he  dropped 
into  the  weeds  bordering  the  hedge,  and  became  lost  to 
my  observation. 

Those  who  do  not  know  the  song  sparrow  can  readily 
identify  it  by  the  streaks  on  the  throat  and  sides  of  the 
body,  the  streaks  on  the  breast  often  forming  a  distinct 
spot,  which  Florence  A.  JMerriam  prettily  describes  as  a 
dark  breastpin.  Its  upper  parts  are  reddish  brown, 
streaked  with  darker  brown  and  gray,  while  the  lower 
parts,  except  those  mentioned,  are  dingy  white. 


TOWHEE. 

One  of  the  showy  birds  of  the  bushes,  not  so  well  known 
as  his  attractive  qualities  deserve,  is  the  handsome  towhee. 
His  shy  disposition  and  lowly  home  have  caused  him  to 
be  overlooked,  except  by  interested  observers,  and  most 
people  are  ignorant  both  of  his  name  and  existence.  He 
merits  a  wider  circle  of  acquaintance,  however;  for  he 
comes  to  us  early  in  the  spring,  usually  preceding  both 
the  brown  thrasher  and  the  catbird,  and  remains  until 
late  in  the  autumn,  and  his  manners  are  above  reproach. 
He  is  no  lover  of  city  or  town  life,  nor  does  he  aspire  to 
occupy  a  high  position  in  the  world.  Fitted  by  dress  and 
manners  to  mingle  with  the  best  classes  of  avian  society, 
be  modestly  chooses  to  pass  his  time  near  the  bosom  of 
mother  earth.  Now  and  then,  however,  he  ascends  to  the 


128  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

summit  of  the  tallest  tree  in  his  domains,  and  dispenses  to 
his  neighbors  generous  measures  of  real  though  monot- 
onous melody. 

Dr.  Coues  gives  the  habitat  of  the  towhee  as  eastern 
United  States  and  British  Provinces;  north  to  Canada, 
Minnesota,  and  Dakota;  west  to  Kansas;  and  in  the  Mis- 
souri Eiver  region  to  about  the  forty-third  parallel. 
Northerly  perfectly  migratory ;  wintering  from  middle 
United  States  southward;  and  breeding  nearly  through- 
out its  range.  Kobert  Ridgway  states  that  the  species  is 
resident  south  of  the  fortieth  parallel.  In  my  home 
neighborhood,  which  is  open  prairie  in  about  thirty-nine 
degrees  and  twenty  minutes  north,  it  is  a  regular  migrant, 
local  influences  doubtless  being  unfavorable  to  its  per- 
manent residence. 

The  towhee  reaches  our  neighborhood  in  its  northward 
migrations  on  widely  varying  dates.  I  first  identified  it 
in  1881,  April  29th,  and  it  doubtless  had  then  been  in  the 
vicinity  some  days  before  I  observed  it.  In  1882  I  saw 
the  first  towhee  of  the  season  on  February  12th,  when  it 
was  hopping  in  and  about  an  evergreen  tree  in  town.  It 
was  April  28th  when  I  observed  the  earliest  towhee  for 
1883  in  the  woods,  and  March  18th  brought  the  first 
migrant  for  1884. 

Like  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak,  the  towhee  is  not  seen 
long  on  the  wing,  nor  does  it  make  lofty  flights.  In  as- 
cending high  trees,  it  alights  among  the  lower  branches, 
and  leisurely  climbs  by  a  series  of  irregular  hops  and 
flights,  as  fancy  leads  it.  Its  migrations  are  made  along 
hedgerows,  bushy  fences,  and  through  patches  of  briers  and 
undergrowth.  From  its  earliest  arrival  in  the  spring  it 
haunts  heaps  of  dried  brush,  away  from  the  vicinity  of 
dwellings,  and  frequents  the  underbrush  of  dry  woods- 
pastures,  where  its  scratching  among  the  dead  leaves  and 
branches  will  surely  reveal  its  presence,  if  its  character- 
istic "  chwink  "  is  unheard.  In  its  habit  of  scratching 
among  the  dead  leaves,  it  has  a  close  parallel  in  the  fox 
sparrow,  whose  efforts  in  this  line  are  quite  ludicrous, 
though  less  noisy  than  the  movements  of  ihe  towhee. 

On  any  of  our  rambles  through  the  woods  where  there 
is  undergrowth  of  gooseberry,  blackberry,  and  other 


Towhee.  129 

bushes,  we  are  certain  to  hear  the  loud,  pleasant  "chwink" 
of  the  towhee,  which  has  suggested  for  the  species  the 
popular  name  of  chewink.  A  noisy  rustling  among  the 
fallen  oak  leaves  in  a  clump  of  May  apples  leads  our  steps 
in  that  direction.  At  our  approach  the  scratching  ceases, 
and  out  flits  the  handsome  author  of  the  noise.  His  head, 
neck,  and  back  are  glossy  black,  vividly  contrasting  with 
the  white  abdomen  and.  chestnut  sides.  As  he  flits  away 
to  disappear  under  a  pile  of  dead  brush,  he  flips  a  long 
black  tail  and  spreads  it  with  a  fan-like  motion,  exposing 
the  pure  white  feathers  on  each  side,  a  sure  means  of 
identification  of  the  species  with  other  features.  Out  of 
the  brush  heap  he  hops  and  then  leisurely  mounts  to  the 
lower  branches  of  a  small  oak,  whence  he  calls  after  us, 
"Ain't  you  pretty?"  emphasizing  the  first  syllable  and 
lengthening  the  last  word  with  rising  inflection.  When 
one  is  startled  from  the  weeds  along  a  hedge,  it  flits  and 
dodges  in  and  out  of  the  bushes  with  noisy  whir  of  wings, 
if  it.  is  followed ;  otherwise  it  alights  in  the  near  bushes 
and  proceeds  about  its  private  business  with  quiet  indif- 
ference, though  gradually  increasing  the  distance  between 
itself  and  its  disturber. 

True  to  its  popular  title  of  ground  robin,  given  to  the 
species  because  it  passes  so  much  of  its  time  on  the  ground, 
and  also  from  its  similarity  in  style  of  coloration  to  the 
robin,  the  towhee  nests  on  or  near  the  ground..  Busby 
wooded  knolls,  thickets  of  undergrowth,  and  dry  bushy 
ravines  are  its  chosen  places  for  nesting.  The  site  of  the 
structure  is  either  on  the  ground,  in  the  forks  of  a  fallen 
branch,  against  the  stems  of  wild  berry  shoots,  or  in  the 
open  with  no  protection  except  the  surrounding  stems,  or 
indeed  in  any  sort  of  lowly  situation.  All  the  nests  I 
have  found  in  this  vicinity  were  on  the  ground. 

The  towhee  is  one  of  the  birds  regularly  imposed  upon 
by  the  cowbirdin  depositing  its  egg  or  eggs.  I  had  never 
found  a  nest  of  the  chewink  until  May  21,  1890,  when  I 
accidentally  flushed  a  female  from  her  nest.  It  was  in  a 
low,  damp  portion  of  a  wooded  pasture,  and  was  set  on 
the  ground  between  forking  limbs  of  a  fallen  branch. 
The  next  was  open  above,  and  contained  two  young  birds 
just  from  the  egg,  two  eggs  of  the  towhee,  and  one  egg  of 


130  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

the  cowbird,  while  a  second  egg  of  the  latter  species  was 
lying  on  the  ground  about  a  foot  from  the  nest.  It  would 
be  interesting  to  know  whether  the  egg  outside  of  the  nest 
had  been  dropped  there  by  the  impatient  cowbird,  or  had 
been  ejected  from  the  nest  by  the  unwilling  foster  parent. 
One  summer  late  in  June,  while  rambling  in  a  bushy 
wooded  pasture,  I  startled  a  female  towhee  from  the  black- 
berry shoots  among  which  I  was  walking.  Almost  from 
under  my  feet  she  painfully  fluttered,  and  without  rising 
from  the  ground,  half  hopping  and  half  flying,  she  moved 
with  outspread,  beating  wings  over  the  dead  leaves  and 
hopped  among  the  neighboring  bushes.  At  first  thought 
I  imagined  I  had  stepped  on  her  and  injured  her;  but  as 
she  hopped  under  and  out  of  the  fallen  branches  and  into 
the  top  of  a  brushpile,  uttering  her  anxious  "  chwink,"  1 
realized  that  I  had  witnessed  a  fine  exhibition  of  maternal 
instinct,  and  that  the  bird  was  not  injured  in  the  least. 
Examining  her  more  closely  as  she  sat  exposed  to  my 
view,  I  observed  that  she  had  not  the  glossy  black  colors 
of  the  male,  but  had  a  more  feminine  dress  of  reddish  - 
brown,  though  in  her  nervous  actions  as  she  hopped  about, 
she  exposed  the  white  corners  of  her  dark  brown  tail 
when  she  spread  it  in  fan-like  movement.  From  the 
uneasiness  she  discovered,  I  believed  a  nest  to  be  near.  I 
searched  closely  in  the  group  of  bushes,  but  failed  to  find 
the  nest  until  I  approached  the  spot  in  the  manner  I  had 
formerly  reached  it,  when  there  at  my  feet  I  found  the 
nest  open  and  exposed  to  the  afternoon  sun.  It  was  set 
in  a  hollow  among  the  dead  oak  leaves  at  the  base  of  a 
blackberry  shoot,  and  was  almost  flush  with  the  surface, 
both  the  materials  and  the  eggs  closely  resembling  their 
surroundings.  The  nest  itself  was  formed  of  common 
dried  grass,  with  a  lining  of  finer  dried  grass  and  a  few 
horsehairs.  It  is  usually  well  rounded,  though  rather 
loosely  woven.  It  is  about  three  inches  in  diameter  and 
two  inches  deep.  The  eggs  vary  from  three  to  five,  and 
they  are  grayish  or  pinkish  white,  with  numerous  specks 
of  pink  and  reddish  brown.  They  average  .95  by  .72  of 
an  inch.  "While  the  female  is  showing  her  anxiety  and 
appealing  to  the  intruder  with  her  plaintive  "  chwink  " 
to  leave  her  undisturbed  in  her  family  affairs,  the  male 


Towhee.  131 

sometimes  arrives  on  the  scene  and  adds  his  voice  to  that 
of  his  spouse  in  remonstrating  against  the  invasion  of  a 
jealously  guarded  home. 

After  the  nesting  season  the  towhees  become  shyer  and 
less  musical  than  during  the  preceding  weeks.  They 
resort  in  families  to  the  high  weeds  and  bushes  bordering 
wooded  streams,  and  seek  denser  undergrowth  than  they 
frequented  earlier  in  the  season.  At  this  period  they 
associate  with  cardinals,  song  sparrows,  and  other  birds 
of  similar  habits,  feeding  on  the  seeds  of  weeds  and  also 
on  the  insect  hordes  tenanting  the  drying  vegetation  at 
this  time  of  summer.  From  the  latter  part  of  August  to 
the  last  week  of  September  my  record  fails  to  note  the 
presence  of  the  towhees  in  their  accustomed  haunts.  This 
is  moulting  season,  and  with  other  birds  they  seem  to 
disappear  from  the  neighborhood.  They  reappear  about 
the  last  week  of  September  with  regular  migrants,  when 
they  are  found  along  hedgerows  and  in  brier  patches  near 
woodlands.  My  journal  for  September  26,  1893,  has  this 
item  taken  in  the  woods  soon  after  sunrise  :  <'  Towhees 
chewinking  in  the  brush  heaps.  They  are  remarkably 
shy,  keeping  so  well  hidden  that  I  saw  but  one,  a  female, 
though  I  heard  several  and  tried  to  find  them."  The 
females  preponderate  for  the  first  week,  after  which  the 
males  outnumber  the  females.  On  October  14,  1893,  I 
noted  that  towhees  were  becoming  less  numerous,  though 
they  remained  until  October  26th,  when  the  last  regular 
migrant  was  observed  in  a  hedge  bordering  a  wooded 
pasture.  However,  on  November  4th  a  crippled  female 
chewink  was  observed  gleaning  among  the  weeds  in  a 
dry  ditch  crossing  a  ploughed  field,  where  no  towhees  had 
been  seen  through  the  summer.  It  was  evidently  a 
belated  specimen. 

The  shy  nature  and  wary  habits  of  the  towhee  are 
manifested  most  strongly  in  its  nidification.  In  my 
earlier  years  I  frequently  searched  long  and  carefully  for 
the  nest  of  the  chewink,  but  was  always  obliged  to  await 
the  solution  of  the  mystery.  On  one  occasion  in  an  early 
morning  ramble  in  spring,  I  detected  a  male  towhee  car- 
rying a  straw  or  piece  of  dried  grass.  Immediately  I  was 
all  enthusiasm  to  think  that  at  last  I  had  a  clue  to  a  nest, 


132  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

and  I  fixed  my  eyes  on  the  bird  to  note  bis  further  move- 
ments. He,  however,  was  fully  as  wide  awake  as  myself, 
and  I  knew  by  his  furtive  glances  toward  me  that  he 
suspected  I  was  quietly  taking  notes.  After  hopping  in- 
differently for  a  yard  or  more,  he  carelessly  dropped  the 
stem  and  unconcernedly  hopped  away  in  and  among  the 
bushes,  as  if  be  had  given  up  further  work  for  the  day. 
I  was  completely  baffled,  for  though  I  lay  in  wait  near 
that  place  several  different  times  on  succeeding  days,  and 
afterwards  searched  the  vicinity  closely  for  a  nest,  I  saw 
no  more  of  the  construction  of  the  nest,  and  indeed  do  not 
know  whether  it  was  finished  or  a  new  site  chosen. 

The  female  towhee  is  a  close  sitter,  and  can  usually  be 
surprised  while  brooding  her  egg  or  young.  In  fact,  the 
nest  can  generally  be  found  only  by  flushing  the  sitting 
bird  from  the  spot.  .Not  long  ago  a  friend  and  myself 
were  rambling  through  a  brushy  ravine  in  the  woods,  and 
were  climbing  up  one  side  of  the  branch.  He  had  just 
passed  up  ahead  of  me,  though  I  was  close  at  his  heels, 
when  right  behind  his  foot  and  almost  in  my  face  fluttered 
a  towhee.  Feigning  injury,  as  usually  does  the  female 
when  startled  from  her  nest,  she  flitted  over  the  bank  and 
disappeared  among  the  bushes.  Standing  still  in  my 
tracks,  I  glanced  about  for  the  nest  revealed  by  the 
actions  of  the  owner.  Failing  to  discover  it  by  looking 
down,  I  stepped  back  and  looked  up  the  steep  slope.  A. 
suspicious  hollow  under  a  horizontal  elm  shoot  caught  my 
eye.  There  was  the  nest,  one  of  the  prettiest  and  best 
hidden  I  ever  found,  set  almost  under  the  roots  of  the 
out-growing  twig,  yet  where  the  mother  bird  could  peep 
out  and  catch  glimpses  of  the  warm  midday  sun  in  her 
cool  retreat.  Even  in  her  well-concealed  home,  however, 
the  eager  eyes  of  the  cowbirds  had  espied  her  snug  and 
cozy  sitting-room,  and  there  with  her  own  two  eggs  lay 
four  eggs  of  the  skulking  parasite,  two  having  been  de- 
posited by  each  of  two  different  females,  from  their  obvious 
resemblances  and  differences,  two  and  two.  Think  of  the 
burden  imposed  upon  that  anxious  mother,  to  care  for 
four  hungry  urchins  who  would  quickly  starve  her  right- 
ful offspring  by  offering  their  great  gaping,  yellow  mouths 
for  every  morsel  of  food  she  could  carry  to  the  nest ! 


BelVs  Yireo.  133 

Kind  Providence  had  a  different  fate  in  store  for  her, 
however,  for  several  days  later  there  came  such  floods  of 
rain  that  the  swollen  waters  of  the  little  stream  over- 
flowed its  banks,  dashing  away  every  loose  particle  in  its 
path,  and  on  visiting  the  spot  after  the  subsidence  of  the 
water,  I  found  no  record  of  the  existence  of  the  once  cher- 
ished home  of  one  of  my  wildwood  favorites. 


BELL'S   VLREO. 

Though  not  uncommon  in  this  locality  of  central  Il- 
linois, Bell's  vireo  appears  to  be  quite  unknown  except  to 
the  enthusiastic  observer  and  the  trained  ornithologist. 
Its  domicile  is  seldom  harried  by  wandering  small  boys, 
and  even  the  earnest  bird-gazer  must  bend  in  humility 
when  he  seeks  to  further  his  acquaintance  with  this  little 
greenlet  by  visiting  it  in  its  bushy  haunts.  It  is  no  gad- 
about or  peddler  of  village  gossip,  but  passes  its  days  con- 
tentedly warbling  literally  "under  its  own  vine  and  (fig) 
tree."  Indeed,  it  appears  to  care  nothing  for  the  friendly 
associations  with  other  birds  so  noticeable  in  the  habits  of 
some  species,  being  a  regular  hermit  in  its  life  among  the 
bushes.  I  once  found  a  cuckoo  nesting  in  a  tangle  of 
grapevines,  among  whose  drooping  twigs  Bell's  vireo  had 
swung  its  tiny  cup;  but  the  unsocial  ways  of  the  cuckoo 
•would  preclude  any  degree  of  familiarity  between  the 
strange  neighbors.  Even  when  the  white-eyed  vireo  is 
dwelling  in  the  same  tangle  with  Bell's  vireo,  there  is  a 
mutual  indifference  to  the  association,  and  each  places  its 
nest  where  it  may  have  its  limited  range  without  becom- 
ing familiar  with  its  neighbor. 

Like  the  other  vireos,  this  little  but  spirited  creature 
does  not  present  its  best  manners  and  warble  its  sweetest 
notes  among  strangers.  It  sings  the  most  forcibly  and 
gayly  near  the  vines  and  bushes  where  hangs  its  gossamer- 
thatched  home,  hence  its  singing  in  any  particular  vicinity 
is  a  pretty  certain  index  of  its  nesting  somewhere  at  hand. 
So  nearly  is  its  entire  time  spent  among  the  low  bushes 
and  tangled  growth  of  thickets  and  ravines  that  it  is  sel- 
dom seen  outside  of  the  covert,  and  then  only  momen- 


134  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

tarily  as  it  darts  out  in  flycatcher-like  manner,  turns 
hurriedly  in  air,  and  darts  back  into  the  cover.  When 
taken  off  its  guard,  it  may  sometimes  be  seen  to  perch  for 
a  few  moments  on  a  low  stem  or  fence,  just  without  the 
border  of  its  bushy  domains,  uttering  its  hurried,  confused 
ditty,  before  it  turns  again  into  the  tangle.  The  chief 
evidence  of  its  existence  is  the  short,  emphatic,  vireo-like 
notes  coming  from  the  bushes — a  warble  shorter  than  the 
song  of  any  of  the  other  vireos,  uttered  nervously,  with 
increasing  force  and  pitch  to  the  end. 

The  performer  himself  is  shy,  and  avoids  listeners.  At 
first  he  is  heard  ahead  of  us,  and  we  see  him  flit  out  from 
the  foliage,  quickly  turn  and  dart  among  the  leaves  again, 
uttering  a  low,  forcible  "quit"  as  he  sports  with  his 
spouse  and  chases  her  through  the  shrubbery.  We  gently 
press  forward,  eager  to  identify  and  observe  the  restless 
creature;  but  now  he  is  singing  behind  us  in  the  tangle, 
and  only  occasionally  do  we  obtain  a  glimpse  of  him  as  he 
flits  among  the  stems  of  the  bushes.  Determined  to  see 
more  of  the  movements  of  the  elfin  bush  man,  we  press 
aside  the  stems  and  creep  into  the  covert,  where  brambles 
irritate  all  the  salient  features  of  our  crouching  form. 
Soon  we  hear  the  restless  little  creature  singing  even  above 
our  head.  At  first  he  says,  "  Quit,  oh,  quit,  now  quit,  why 
can't  you  hear?"  in  a  hurried,  confused,  and  nervous 
manner,  not  unlike  the  latter  part  of  the  song  of  the 
prairie  horned  lark.  Then,  perhaps,  he  soliloquizes  softly, 
in  a  subdued,  far-away  tone,  scarcely  audible  to  our  at- 
tentive ears,  like  the  warbling  vireo  when  it  knows  itself 
to  be  observed.  Thus  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak  will 
frequently  sing  when  under  observation,  and  thus  the 
brown  thrasher  croons  its  sweet  melodies  toward  the  close 
of  the  nesting  season.  Thus  sings  the  little  vireo  whose 
habits  we  are  briefly  sketching,  ever  flirting  its  tail  in 
nervous  flycatcher  style  when  alighted  for  a  few  moments, 
passing  to  and  fro  in  its  restricted  range  as  it  is  impelled 
by  its  unresting  spirit;  and  thus  we  learn  to  know  and 
love  the  shy,  modest  denizen  of  the  lowly  bushes. 

Along  the  edge  of  the  woods  north  of  my  former  home 
there  was  a  thicket  of  wild  plum  trees  bordering  a  shal- 
low rivulet  which  flowed  into  a  creek  about  eighty  rods 


Bell's  Vireo.  135 

beyond.  The  plum  thicket  has  now  almost  entirely  dis- 
appeared, and  on  either  side  of  the  rivulet  are  cultivated 
fields,  but  fringing  the  rivulet  and  the  hedge  separating 
the  fields  are  small  bushes  of  hazel,  plum,  sumach,  alder 
and  wild  grapevines.  It  was  among  these  bushes  that  I 
first  found  Bell's  vireo,  and  there  I  learned  something  of 
its  habits.  Forty  rods  farther  north  along  the  same  hedge 
and  rivulet  is  the  remnant  of  the  plum  grove,  intergrown 
with  bushes  and  vines,  forming  another  tangle  where  this 
vireo  sings  and  breeds  unmolested.  There,  however,  it 
has  companions  which  sport  among  the  branches  in  care- 
less spirit,  for  Traill's  flycatcher  is  so  similar  in  disposi- 
tion and  habits  that  there  it  also  finds  a  congenial  home. 
In  the  tops  of  the  slender  plum  trees  the  green  heron 
spreads  its  loose  mat,  while  in  the  forks  of  the  pliant  plum- 
shoots  the  yellow  warbler  weaves  its  downy  cup.  Across 
the  creek  into  which  the  rivulet  flows,  and  extending  forty 
rods  beyond,  is  a  narrow,  abandoned  road  between  two 
hedges,  now  tangled  almost  impassably  with  bushes, 
creeping  vines,  and  weeds,  amid  which  hang  the  habita- 
tions of  Bell's  and  the  white-eyed  vireo.  There  also  the 
splendid  cardinal  whistles  his  rich  notes  while  his  less 
splendidly  attired  spouse  sits  upon  her  bark-woven  home 
among  the  grapevines,  and  the  catbird  flits  through  the 
covert  and  provokes  the  anger  of  the  pugnacious  vireos. 

Bell's  vireo,  however,  though  overcoming  none  of  its 
natural  shyness,  often  takes  up  its  residence  in  more 
public  and  more  open  situations.  Wild  blackberry,  hazel, 
and  other  bushes  overhanging  ditches  along  roadsides, 
and  the  spreading,  drooping  lower  branches  of  hedges  are 
favorite  resorts,  whence  its  characteristic  song  greets  the 
passers-by,  who  are  too  commonly  deaf  and  blind  to  the 
sights  and  sounds  ever  inviting  their  attention.  One 
June  morning  I  found  a  nest  of  this  vireo  in  a  small  clump 
of  wild  blackberry  bushes  overhanging  a  dry  ditch  along 
the  road  followed  by  the  village  boys  on  their  fishing 
trips.  It  was  the  least  concealed  of  all  the  nests  of  this 
species  I  ever  found,  and  soon  was  overtaken  by  self- 
invited  disaster,  though  I  suspect  that  the  blue  jays  were 
the  guilty  parties. 

This  vireo  loiters  on  its  northward  journey  more  than 


136  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

its  congeners,  and  is  the  last  of  the  vireos  to  make  its 
appearance  in  the  places  it  frequents.  It  commonly 
reaches  this  locality  by  the  end  of  the  first  week  of  May, 
and  proceeds  to  take  possession  of  its  former  domains 
with  its  accustomed  vivacity  of  spirit.  It  begins  to  nest 
soon  after  the  middle  of  May,  and  the  duties  of  incubation 
usually  claim  the  attention  of  the  female  in  the  last  week 
of  this  month.  The  nests  are  suspended  by  the  brim  from 
the  twigs  of  the  bushes  it  frequents,  and  are  oftenest  in 
low  situations  between  a  foot  and  four  feet  from  the 
ground,  though  sometimes  nests  are  found  in  higher  situ- 
ations. The  typical  nesting  site  of  the  vireos  is  in  a 
drooping  or  horizontal  fork,  but  the  nest  of  Bell's  vireo 
often  depends  from  more  than  two  twigs.  It  is  generally 
well  concealed  by  surrounding  leaves,  and  only  by  pulling 
aside  the  foliage  can  one  ordinarily  find  the  nest,  or  else 
by  getting  down  where  one  can  look  through  the  stems 
with  the  view  unobstructed  by  the  leaves. 

Both  male  and  female,  being  so  seldom  far  away  from 
their  lowly  home,  are  jealous  watchers  of  its  privacy,  and 
strongly  object  to  an  investigation  by  intruders.  The 
female  is  a  restless  sitter,  and  therefore  is  easily  startled 
from  her  nest.  When  disturbed,  both  birds  flit  about  the 
spot,  uttering  a  scolding,  wren-like  noise  represented 
almost  exactly  by  the  sj'llable  "pa,"  pronounced  like  the 
sound  of  pa  in  pair,  repeated  rapidly,  at  times  more  rap- 
idly by  the  female  than  one  can  follow  by  counting.  In 
their  nervous  anxiety  to  protect  their  property  and  em- 
bryonic offspring,  they  do  not  hesitate  to  perch  close  ,to 
the  disturber,  and  their  bright  eyes  flash  with  outraged 
dignity  and  righteous  indignation.  At  such  times  we  can 
note  their  resemblance  to  the  warbling  vireo,  yet  their 
smaller  size  is  seen  at  once,  and  their  colors  are  brighter 
than  those  of  the  larger  species. 

Many  nests  examined  show  a  similarity  in  location  and 
construction.  They  are  made  chiefly  of  grayish  vegetable 
bark  fibers,  a  sort  of  light,  clean,  husk-like  leaf  in  small 
fragments,  fine  dried  grass,  pieces  of  leaves  and  paper,  and 
bits  and  threads  of  gossamer.  Outwardly  the  nest  has  an 
unfinished  appearance,  the  bark  fibers  and  pieces  of  husk 
being  allowed  to  hang  loosely  from  the  under  side  of  the 


Bell's  Vireo.  137 

nest.  The  lining  is  of  fine  dried  grass,  with  here  and 
there  a  circular  flake  of  gossamer.  The  cavity  is  smoothly 
and  firmly  finished,  averaging  an  inch  and  five-eighths  in 
diameter  by  one  and  one-half  in  depth.  Four  eggs  lorm 
the  usual  complement,  though  late  complements  often 
contain  only  three  eggs.  They  are  snowy  white,  spotted 
irregularly  with  blackish  brown,  the  spots  commonly  pre- 
ponderating around  the  larger  end.  They  average  nearly 
.70  of  an  inch  in  length  by  .50  in  width. 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  1894  that  my  observations  of 
the  habits  of  this  vireo  were  chiefly  made,  and  since  that 
time  I  have  been  unable  to  continue  the  acquaintance 
then  so  agreeable  to  me.  Only  lately,  however,  in  an 
afternoon  ramble  over  a  gentle  southern  slope  on  which  a 
clearing  had  been  made,  and  where  later  a  thick  growth 
of  shoots  and  bushes  had  appeared — where  the  yellow- 
breasted  chat  whistles  and  cackles  and  skulks,  where  the 
indigo  bunting  utters  its  persistent  chant,  and  the  field 
sparrow  adds  its  sweet  ditty  to  the  afternoon  chorus — 
there  I  again  heard  the  gentle  sputtering  of  my  little 
friend  of  other  days,  and  as  before  I  followed  him  into  the 
tangle.  Among  the  bushy  growth  a  small  ravine  breaks 
its  way  to  the  larger  stream,  and  overhanging  the  dry  bed 
of  the  ravine  are  clustering  vines  drooping  into  brambles 
below.  Creeping  under  the  vines  and  among  the  bram- 
bles, I  again  saw  this  interesting  little  vireo;  as  I  watched 
his  restless  movements,  his  rapid  flitting  among  the  stems, 
his  ardent  pursuit  of  his  lady  love,  his  warbler-like  man- 
ner of  taking  insect  prey  on  the  wing  from  the  outward 
leaves,  I  felt  that  the  renewal  of  old  friendship  had  amply 
compensated  me  for  my  walk  of  six  miles. 

Like  other  birds  which  reach  us  later  in  the  spring, 
Bell's  vireo  leaves  us  early  in  the  summer,  disappearing 
from  its  haunts  about  the  first  of  August,  at  about  the 
same  time  that  Dickcissel  ceases  his  rural  monologues, 
when  Traill's  flycatcher  forsakes  its  thorny  perches  in 
the  hedgerows  and  is  seen  no  more,  and  when  our  resi- 
dent Baltimore  orioles  depart  to  escape  the  further  heat 
and  drought  of  summer.  The  vireo  probably  goes  as  far 
south  in  winter  as  Central  America.  Its  summer  home  is 
the  region  west  of  the  W abash  Eiver  to  the  Eocky  Moun- 
tains, ranging  north  to  Lake  Superior. 


138  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 


COWBIKD. 

Some  birds  are  interesting  solely  because  their  habits 
and  manners  present  wide  variations  from  the  ordinary 
phases  of  bird-life  so  common  around  us.  The  cowbird  is 
one  of  the  birds  whose  strange  habits  invite  our  interest, 
and  it  is  no  wonder  that  it  has  become  notorious  in  an  avi- 
fauna comprising  so  many  birds  whose  morals  are  un- 
questioned, and  whose  habits  are  so  nearly  in  accord  with 
the  recognized  standard  of  virtue.  Though  the  cowbird  is 
well  known  to  both  scientific  and  lay  observers,  its 
strange  behavior  and  stealthy  movements  at  certain 
seasons  have  prevented  the  acquisition  of  full  data  con- 
cerning many  features  of  its  life,  and  a  few  unfounded 
speculations  about  its  habits  have  become  current.  In 
our  American  fauna  the  cowbird  occupies  a  parallel  place 
with  the  European  cuckoo,  and  boys  and  girls  who  know 
something  of  the  strange  habits  of  the  latter  may  think  of 
the  cowbird  in  a  similar  light.  The  two  species  of  Amer- 
ican cuckoos  are  birds  of  better  morals  than  their  Euro- 
pean namesake,  and  regularly  make  nests  in  which  to  de- 
posit their  eggs  and  rear  their  young.  The  cowbird,  how- 
ever, never  constructs  a  nest,  but  deposits  its  eggs  in  the 
homes  of  other  birds,  and  thus  imposes  upon  them  the 
care  of  hatching  its  eggs  and  rearing  its  young.  This  un- 
usual lack  of  parental  instinct,  and  the  fact  that  the  cow- 
bird  commonly  imposes  upon  birds  of  smaller  size  than  it- 
self, chiefly  valuable  insectivorous  and  song  birds,  thus 
aiding  in  the  restriction  of  such  birds,  have  fastened  on 
this  pariah  of  bird-life  an  unenviable  reputation.  It  is,  in- 
deed, a  peculiar  bird,  having  no  attractiveness  of  color,  no 
beauty  of  voice,  and  no  home.  No  wonder  that,  when  in 
the  haunts  of  other  species,  it  hides  and  skulks  as  it  seeks 
a  suitable  and  convenient  habitation  to  house  its  unborn 
orphan ! 

Like  our  other  representatives  of  the  family  Icteridce,  the 
cowbirds  are  migratory  in  this  latitude,  though  they  are 
resident  in  the  southern  portion  of  the  State,  with  the 
bronzed  grackles  and  others  of  their  congeners.  They 
commonly  arrive  in  this  locality  about  the  middle  of 


Cowbird.  139 

March;  and  in  their  migration,  as  at  other  times  of  the 
year,  they  are  gregarious,  though  not  seen  in  the  ex- 
tensive flocks  into  which  the  grackles  assemble.  Follow- 
ing the  custom  of  most  of  the  migratory  birds,  the  males 
commonly  precede  the  females  several  days.  For  a  month 
or  more  they  spend  their  time  together  in  the  pastures 
among  the  cattle,  or  sitting  along  the  fences  and  road- 
sides, and  in  trees  along  the  edges  of  woods  bordering 
fields  and  pastures.  They  frequently  alight  on  the  backs 
of  the  cattle  to  pick  insects  from  the  hairs,  or  to  sit  with 
lazy  ease,  their  familiarity  with  the  cattle  suggesting  their 
name  of  cowbird.  They  also  follow  the  steps  of  the  plow- 
boy,  and  pick  up  worms  and  larvse  in  the  furrows  made 
by  the  plow. 

We  can  begin  our  study  of  this  peculiar  bird  on  any 
fine  morning  after  the  grackles  have  become  fully  settled 
in  their  accustomed  resorts,  and  after  the  finely-strung 
notes  of  the  red-winged  blackbirds  have  grown  old  to  the 
ear.  Then,  on  some  bright  morning,  as  we  walk  out 
along  the  roadside  leading  from  the  village,  the  sharp, 
squeaky  whistle  of  the  cowbird  greets  our  ear,  and  we  are 
guided  by  "the  sound  to  look  for  the  author  in  the  top  of 
a  bare  hedge  tree  or  other  convenient  perch.  There  he 
sits  alone,  and  like  the  bronzed  grackle  in  uttering  his 
unmusical,  rasping  notes,  the  cowbird  swells  his  body 
and  erects  his  feathers,  preparatory  to  the  effort  which  is 
to  produce  only  a  shrill  note,  reminding  us  of  a  long,  in- 
drawn whistle.  Later  in  the  month  the  whistle  of  the 
male  is  heard  almost  as  frequently  as  the  note  of  the 
grackle  or  redwing,  or  the  rich,  melodious  plaint  of  the 
meadow,  lark. 

In  their  courtship  the  males  are  very  gallant,  and 
parade  before  the  females  with  partly  expanded  wings 
and  tail,  and  the  feathers  of  the  neck  inflated,  uttering 
their  unmusical  love-notes  before  dwindling  to  their  ordi- 
nary size.  They  doubtless  regard  their  appearance  as 
quite  pompous  and  worthy  the  admiration  of  the  fair 
ones,  though  to  the  human  observer  the  effect  is  rather 
ludicrous.  The  birds  generally  associate  at  this  season 
in  groups  of  six  or  eight,  and  the  males  are  easily  distin- 
guished by  the  gloss  of  their  black  plumage  in  contrast 


140  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

to  the  dull  brown  of  the  female.  It  is  noticeable  that  in 
this  mingling  of  the  sexes  and  in  the  pompous  efforts  of 
the  males  to  impress  the  opposite  sex  with  their  dignity, 
there  is  no  attempt  at  pairing,  and  the  males  evidently 
make  no  demonstrations  for  the  edification  of  any  partic- 
ular female.  In  fact,  these  birds  are  not  known  to  pair 
for  the  season  or  for  life  like  most  other  birds.  While 
most  writers  state  that  the  males  are  polygamous,  it  is 
perhaps  true  that  the  females  meet  the  advances  of  any 
males  which  solicit  their  favors,  and  hence  the  females 
may  be  described  as  polyandrous.  However,  careful  and 
persistent  observation  of  the  courting  and  breeding  habits 
of  the  species  may  disclose  the  fact  that  the  birds  pair 
frequently  for  the  summer.  In  a  comprehensive  article 
on  the  species,  published  in  the  Ornithologist  and  Oologist, 
January,  1890,  Dr.  Morris  G-ibbs  suggests  this  as  reason- 
able, and  refers  to  an  incident  coming  under  his  notice 
when  he  saw  a  blue  jay,  on  the  point  of  despoiling  the 
nest  of  a  vireo,  driven  away  by  a  pair  of  cowbirds  in  a 
most  valiant  manner.  On  going  to  the  nest  he  found  a 
large,  overgrown  cowbird  occupying  the  largest  share  of 
the  structure,  while  a  poor  little  red-eyed  vireo  occupied 
a  small  space  at  the  bottom,  and  beneath  his  big  foster 
brother.  It  thus  appears  that  these  birds  do  frequently 
pair  and  also  keep  watch  of  the  nest  containing  their  off- 
spring, though  such  action  on  the  part  of  the  cowbird  is 
rarely  observed  by  ornithologists. 

The  destructive  effects  of  the  visit  of  the  cowbirds  to 
the  nests  they  select  in  which  to  deposit  their  eggs  are 
very  evident  to  the  student  of  ornithology  who  is  accus- 
tomed to  look  for  the  birds  in  their  haunts.  Many  nests 
are  found  deserted  by  the  owners  apparently  because  a 
cowbird  had  slipped  into  the  habitation  soon  after  the 
completion  of  the  structure  and  deposited  its  egg  before 
the  owners  had  taken  possession.  I  have  found  many 
nests  of  the  field  sparrow  and  the  chippy  long  deserted, 
holding  only  a  single  addled  egg  of  the  cowbird.  These 
two  species  suffer  greatly  from  the  imposition  of  the  para- 
sife,  and  I  have  frequently  seen  a  pair  of  field  sparrows 
leading  several  younglings,  among  which  would  be  a 


Gowbird.  141 

great,  clumsy  cowbird  pressing  closely  after  tbe  parent 
birds  for  each  newly-found  morsel. 

Few  birds  in  whose  nest  tbe  cowbird  has  succeeded  in 
placing  its  eggs  lay  their  fullest  complements.  Even 
when  the  usual  number  is  deposited,  the  rapidly  growing 
interloper,  which  commonly  emerges  first  from  the  shell, 
robs  the- rightful  offspring  until  they  starve  before  they 
are  old  enough  to  leave  tbe  nest,  or  else  until  they  are 
weakly  specimens  to  begin  the  struggle  for  existence. 
The- species  selected  by  the  cowbird  in  one  locality  may 
be  almost  exempt  in  another  locality.  In  my  former 
home  in  an  adjoining  county,  the  brown  thrasher  is  very 
rarely  selected,  but  in  my  present  vicinity  I  have  met 
several  instances  of  such  a  selection.  It  is  evident  that 
upon  many  species  given  in  lists  of  birds  imposed  upon 
by  the  parasite,  the  cowbird  intrudes  its  egg  only  rarely, 
and  hence  a  very  large  list  can  be  formed.  The  warblers, 
vireos,  sparrows,  and  smaller  flycatchers  are  the  heaviest 
sufferers.  In  my  observation,  the  wood  thrush,  towhee, 
field  and  chipping  sparrows,  yellow-breasted  chat,  and 
the  Maryland  yellowthroat  are  oftenest  selected  to  bear 
the  burden  of  rearing  the  young  of  the  cowbird. 

The  female  cowbird  generally  watches  her  opportunity, 
and  slips  into  the  nest  while  the  owner  is  absent  in  search 
of  food  or  recreation.  Eobert  Eidgway,  in  "Natural 
History  Survey  of  Illinois,"  Vol.  I,  thus  speaks  of  the 
actions  of  the  cowbird  :  "  It  is  interesting  to  watch  the 
female  when  she  is  searching  for  a  nest  in  which  to  deposit 
the  egg  she  is  about  to  lay.  She  hunts  stealthily  through 
the  woods,  usually  among  the  undergrowth,  and  when  a 
nest  is  discovered,  patiently  awaits  from  a  convenient 
hiding  place  the  temporary  absence  of  the  parent,  when 
the  nest  is  stealthily  and  hastily  inspected,  and  if  found 
suitable  she  takes  possession  and  deposits  her  egg,  when 
she  departs  as  quietly  as  she  came."  In  some  instances, 
however,  it  is  probable  that  the  intruder  drives  the  lawful 
occupant  from  the  nest  and  makes  a  place  for  her  egg  by 
force.  Frequently,  also,  the  cowbird  will  eject  one  or 
more  eggs  of  the  owner  to  make  room  for  her  egg,  or  to 
deceive  the  owner  and  leave  the  same  number  of  eggs  as 
were  in  the  nest  before  her  visit,  and  as  frequently  the 


142  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

owner  will  oust  the  alien  egg  from  the  nest  with  little 
ceremony  when  she  returns.  We  sometimes  find  an  egg 
of  the  owner  on  the  ground  near  a  nest  containing  an  egg 
of  the  cow  bird,  and  it  is  no  unusual  occurrence  to  find  an 
egg  of  the  cowbird  lying  near  a  nest  of  a  species  regularly 
imposed  upon  by  the  parasite. 

Each  female  of  this  species  lays  at  least  four  eggs,  in  all 
probability,  sometimes  depositing  them  all  in  one  nest,  as 
is  inferred  in  such  instances  from  the  great  similarity  of 
the  parasitic  eggs  found  in  one  nest.  It  is  not  uncommon 
to  find  from  one  to  four  eggs  of  the  cowbird  in  a  single 
nest.  A  female  cowbird,  which  had  been  wounded,  was 
captured  and  kept  for  a  time  in  captivity  by  Dr.  Morris 
Gibbs,  and  within  eighty-four  hours  after  its  capture  it 
deposited  four  eggs  at  irregular  intervals.  This  spring  I 
found  a  nest  of  the  towhee  containing  two  eggs  of  the 
owner  and  four  eggs  of  the  parasite,  and  two  each  of  the 
four  were  so  markedly  similar  that  it  was  fair  to  conclude 
that  two  cowbirds  had  deposited  two  eggs  each  in  the 
nest.  Other  observers  have  been  impressed  with  the  idea 
that  the  same  female  frequently  places  two  or  more  eggs 
in  one  selected  nest.  In  this  connection  I  quote  from  the 
article  mentioned  as  written  by  Dr.  Morris  Gibbs :  "  In 
every  instance  that  I  have  recorded  in  my  note-book,  and 
they  are  numerous,  I  have  had  it  impressed  upon  me  that 
the  cowbird  is  influenced  by  the  size  of  the  nest  in  laying 
a  large  number  of  eggs  in  one  nest,  rather  than  by  the 
number  of  eggs  to  be  laid  by  the  legitimate  owner.  Of 
course  what  we  term  instinct  in  the  lower  animals  asserts 
itself  in  some  way  in  these  cases,  and  the  cowbirds  judge 
as  to  the  ability  of  the  contemplated  foster  parents  to 
provide  for  the  unwelcome  nurslings,  by  the  size  of  the 
nest.  Once  I  met  with  a  bluebird's  nest  in  a  very  large 
excavation,  containing  five  blue  eggs  and  four  speckled 
ones,  and  in  this  case  the  speckled  eggs  were  evidently 
laid  by  the  same  female,  judging  from  the  size  and  mark- 
ings." 

As  has  been  stated,  sometimes  the  returned  owner  of 
the  nest,  indignant  at  the  violation  of  its  home,  lifts  the 
egg  of  the  cowbird  from  the  nest  and  places  it  at  a  safe 
distance,  or  pierces  the  shell  with  its  bill  and  thus  carries 


Cowbird.  143 

it  from  the  nest.  Other  species,  notably  the  yellow  warbler, 
and  frequently  the  prothonotary  warbler,  determined  to 
avoid  the  task  of  rearing  the  intruder,  sometimes  build  a 
floor  over  the  contents  of  their  nest,  thus  incarcerating 
their  own  eggs  as  well  as  those  of  the  cowbird,  and  pro- 
ceed to  lay  a  new  complement  of  eggs.  When  the  parent 
continues  the  task  of  incubating  or  of  laying  the  remainder 
of  her  regular  complement,  if  the  eggs  are  examined  at 
any  stage  of  incubation,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  egg  of  the 
cowbird  is  rather  more  advanced  than  the  eggs  of  the 
owner  of  the  nest.  This  fact  has  been  partially  explained 
by  reasoning  that  the  generally  larger  size  of  the  parasitic 
egg  brings  it  into  closer  contact  with  the  body  of  the  sit- 
ting bird,  and  hence  it  receives  a  larger  portion  of  the 
heat  necessary  to  incubation.  Observations  appear  to 
warrant  the  conclusion  that  the  eggs  of  the  cowbird  hatch 
in  eleven  or  twelve  days. 

The  eggs  of  the  cowbird  average  .88  by  .65  of  an  inch, 
the  length  varying  from  .95  to  .67  of  an  inch,  and  the 
width  varying  from  .72  to  .58  of  an  inch.  The  ground  is 
a  dingy  white  or  gray,  and  the  markings  vary  through  all 
the  shades  of  brown,  sometimes  evenly  distributed  over 
the  surface,  and  at  other  times  predominating  around  the 
larger  end.  In  some  instances  the  spots  are  quite  fine, 
and  in  others  the  markings  are  moderately  large,  hence 
there  is  much  diversity  in  the  appearance  of  different 
specimens.  Frequently  the  investigator  is  puzzled  in 
distinguishing  the  true  eggs  of  the  towhee,  cardinal,  and 
other  species  from  the  products  of  the  parasite. 

It  is  a  fact  not  generally  noted  by  naturalists  that  in 
the  breeding  season  the  male  grackles  and  red-winged 
blackbirds,  and  the  cowbirds  of  both  sexes,  nightly  con- 
gregate to  roost  in  suitable  places.  I  first  became  aware 
of  the  fact  on  a  visit  to  the  swamp-lakes  early  in  May, 
and  described  a  roost  situated  near  Havana,  Illinois,  in 
the  St.  Louis  Globe- Democrat,  June  7,  1896.  In  the  Ob- 
server  for  July,  1896,  Dr.  A.  K.  Fisher  has  an  interesting 
article  on  "Summer  Roosts  of  Swallows  and  Eed-winged 
Blackbirds."  The  roost  which  attracted  my  attention 
was  among  willows  growing  on  a  sand-bar  about  one 
hundred  yards  out  in  the  mouth  of  Quiver  Lake.  The 


144  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

willows  were  in  their  second  year,  and  were  then  sub- 
merged for  about  three  feet  of  their  height  by  the  un- 
usually high  water.  It  was  a  famous  place  for  the  com- 
munistic blackbirds  to  congregate  after  the  active  duties 
of  the  day,  and  toward  sunset  they  began  to  resort 
thither  from  the  surrounding  districts.  The  grackles  and 
red-winged  blackbirds  were  breeding  by  hundreds  in 
the  overflowed  regions  in  the  vicinity,  and  a  few  had 
their  homes  in  the  willows  mentioned.  It  appeared 
that  this  island  grove  was  a  regular  rendezvous  at  night- 
fall. The  swaying  wands  of  the  willows,  all  of  which  had 
sprung  up  on  the  bar  in  the  preceding  season,  formed  a 
desired  roost  for  these  birds,  which  are  naturally  gre- 
garious. Thither  they  came,  all  noisy  and  musical  as  the 
blackbirds  can  be,  coming  singly  and  in  couples,  trios,  and 
troops  of  various  small  numbers.  The  cowbirds,  having 
no.  established  homes  of  their  own,  appeared  to  be  very 
abundant,  and  came  in  low  over  the  water,  adding  their 
sharp,  squeaking  whistles  to  the  mingling  notes  of  the 
grackles  and  the  twanging  calls  of  the  red-winged  black- 
birds. Both  sexes  of  the  cowbirds  joined  the  hordes 
gathering  for  an  hour  of  sociability  and  a  night  of  rest; 
but  of  the  other  species  the  males  were  largely  in  the  ma- 
jority, the  zealous  care  of  the  females  holding  them  in 
brooding  watchfulness  over  their  grass-woven  homes  in 
the  adjacent  swamps.  The  jargon  of  a  large  troop  of 
blackbirds  is  not  unmusical  in  its  combined  effect,  and 
from  the  willowy  resort  the  medley  was  produced  by 
thousands  of  throats.  At  times  the  clamorous  young  of 
the  birds  resident  among  the  willows  manifested  their  de- 
sires in  loud,  harshly-grating  notes,  not  unlike  the  rapid 
cackling  of  the  guinea  hen.  Now  and  then  amid  the 
jingle  I  could  hear  the  "peabody"  song  of  a  departing 
white- throated  sparrow,  resting  for  the  night  to  enjoy  the 
company  of  its  noisy  bedfellows.  Until  an  hour  after 
sunset,  even  after  the  last  belated  stragglers  had  settled 
into  their  places,  the  confused  medley  saluted  the  ear. 
The  red-wings  were  the  last  to  become  quiet,  though  after 
they  ceased  as  a  company  the  voice  of  an  occasional 
grackle  was  heard,  perhaps  in  response  to  the  rapidly- 
delivered  notes  of  a  whip-poor-will  sounded  from  the  river 


Cowbinl.  145 

bank  beyond;  but  at  length  darkness  reigned  over  the 
scene. 

Like  their  regular  associates,  the  cowbirds  manifest  their 
gregarious  nature  early  after  the  breeding  season  by  form- 
ing into  flocks,  the  numbers  varying  from  twenty  to  fifty 
or  sixty.  The  old  birds  have  then  gone  thi-ough  their 
summer  moult,  and  the  glossy  black  of  the  males  has  been 
changed  into  the  duller  colors  worn  by  the  females  and 
the  young  of  the  year.  At  this  time  of  the  year  the  cow- 
birds  may  be  seen  in  the  great  flocks  of  blackbirds  of 
various  species  assembling  here  and  there,  congregating 
where  food  is  most  abundant  and  easy  to  be  procured. 
They  leave  this  locality  comparatively  early,  the  flocks 
beginning  to  form  late  in  June,  though  the  larger  flocks 
are  observed  in  July  and  early  August.  Their  move- 
ments to  the  Southern  States  (where  they  spend  the  win- 
ter), and  their  manners  while  sojourning  there,  are  very 
similar  to  those  of  the  other  associated  species. 

Robert  Ridgway  gives  their  habitat  as  temperate  North 
America  (except  Pacific  Coast),  north  to  about  the  sixty- 
eighth  parallel.  They  breed  chiefly  north  of  the  thirty- 
fifth  parallel,  and  winter  mainly  south  of  the  same  par- 
allel, down  to  the  southern  borders  of  the  United  States. 

It  has  been  genei-ally  inferred  that  the  impositions  of 
the  cowbird  are  especially  harmful  in  restricting  the  num- 
bers of  insectivorous  and  song  birds,  but  it  does  not  nec- 
essarily follow  that  the  balance  of  nature  is  disturbed  by 
the  peculiar  habits  of  this  species.  Late  investigations  of 
the  food  habits  of  the  cowbird  indicate  that  the  species  is 
largely  beneficial,  for  Prof.  Beal's  report  read  before  the 
Biological  Society,  D.  C.,  showed  the  food  of  the  cowbird 
to  consist  of  "  animal  and  vegetable  matter  in  the  pro- 
portion of  about  twenty-eight  per  cent,  of  the  former  to 
seventy-two  per  cdnt.  of  the  latter.  Spiders  and  harmful 
insects  compose  almost  exclusively  the  animal  food,  while 
weed  seeds,  waste  grain,  and  a  few  miscellaneous  articles 
make  up  the  vegetable  food."  It  is  not  improbable  that 
the  so-called  insectivorous  birds  displaced  by  the  cowbird 
are  thus  kept  in  check  by  this  natural  agent,  and  their 
mission  performed  by  the  usurper  in  directions  as  helpful 
10 


146  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

as  the  special  functions  of  the  sufferers.  "We  may  later 
come  to  understand  that  one  cowbird  is  worth  two  bobo- 
links after  all. 

FIELD    SPAEEOW. 

No  other  inhabitant  of  the  bushes  is  more  abundant 
than  the  little  field  sparrow,  whose  resemblance  to  the 
common  chipping  sparrow  causes  it  frequently  to  be  over- 
looked, or  mistaken  for  its  better  known  relative.  In- 
deed, its  similarity  to  the  chippy  has  been  recognized  in 
its  popular  titles  of  "field  chippy"  and  "red-billed 
chippy,"  the  latter  name  suggesting  one  of  the  chief  points 
of  difference  between  it  and  its  congener,  and  the  former 
title  indicating  its  preference  for  rural  life.  In  all  respects 
it  is  the  equal  of  the  regular  chipping  sparrow.  Its  song 
is  louder,  fuller,  and  more  modulated,  its  disposition  is 
gentle,  its  manners  are  interesting,  and  its* activity  in  the 
service  of  the  gardener  and  farmer  is  fully  as  noticeable 
as  that  of  its  more  confiding  cousin.  In  its  chosen  resorts 
it  is  fully  as  common  as  the  chipping  sparrow  about  our 
dwellings;  and  if  its  disposition  led  it  to  dwell  nearer  our 
homes,  it  would  be  an  equal  favorite.  However,  its  retir- 
ing nature  leads  it  to  seek  seclusion,  and  it  is  rarely  seen 
about  the  lawns  and  gardens,  where  the  chipping  sparrow 
prefers  to  dwell.  When  we  visit  the  field  sparrow  in  its 
favored  haunts,  however,  we  find  that  its  secluded  ways 
are  not  due  to  shyness  or  timidity ;  for  it  trills  cheerily  as 
though  unconcerned  about  our  proximity,  and  continues 
in  its  pretty  ways  regardless  of  our  presence.  Its  love  of 
rural  life  is  as  marked  as  the  chippy's  liking  for  its  urban 
home,  and  we  think  none  the  less  of  the  little  field  spar- 
row for  its  manifest  regard  for  the  peace  and  quiet  of  its 
country  home.  While  we  who  live  in  the  villages  and 
suburban  places  are  cheered  by  the  rattling  trill  of  the 
chippy,  and  can  study  its  confiding  manners  and  observe 
its  domestic  life  in  our  gardens,  our  dooryards,  and  along 
our  streets,  the  residents  of  rural  districts  can  study  with 
the  same  interest  and  advantage  the  behavior  and  econ- 
omy of  the  equally  attractive  field  sparrow. 

The  untrained  student  of  birds  who  begins  his  observa- 


Field  Sparrow.  147 

tions  early  in  the  spring  may  be  somewhat  confused  by 
finding  several  of  the  sparrows  which  look  and  act  much 
alike.  The  tree  sparrow,  the  field  sparrow,  and  the  chip- 
ping  sparrow  are  apt  to  be  confused  by  the  novice.  The 
tree  sparrow  is  a  winter  resident  in  this  region,  and  can 
be  studied  earlier  in  the  year,  before  the  two  similar 
species  make  their  appearance,  and  thus  it  can  be  easily 
separated  from  the  others  by  studying  it  alone.  It  usually 
retires  toward  the  north  as  the  others  appear  among  us 
from  their  southern  winter  homes.  The  chipping  spar- 
row seldom  is  found  nesting  and  resorting  far  away  from 
dwellings.  The  chippy  has  a  black  bill  and  its  cap  or 
crown  is  very  dark,  almost  black,  while  the  field  sparrow 
has  a  red  bill,  and  its  cap  is  more  reddish.  By  giving 
attention  to  these  traits  and  markings,  and  to  others 
mentioned  in  the  books  of  descriptive  ornithology,  we 
believe  that  observing  boys  and  girls  can  soon  become 
acquainted  with  these  similarly-appearing  sparrows,  and 
then  their  ways  can  be  separately  studied.  We  have  not 
here  mentioned  the  song  sparrow,  which  is  another  small 
sparrow  arriving  among  us  about  the  time  when  the  others 
appear,  for  its  markings  are  so  different,  with  its  streaky 
breast  and  small  black  spot  forming  a  "breastpin,"  that 
it  should  not  be  mistaken  for  one  of  the  others  mentioned. 
None  of  the  three  sparrows  first  mentioned  has  the  streaks 
on  the  under  parts,  in  mature  plumage. 

The  home  of  the  field  sparrow  is  in  the  eastern  United 
States  and  southern  Canada,  ranging  westward  to  the 
edge  of  the  great  plains,  and  southward  to  the  Gulf  States. 
It  is  said  to  breed  from  the  Gulf  States  northward  through- 
out its  range,  and  spends  its  winters  south  of  the  thirty- 
eighth  parallel.  It  comes  to  us  from  its  southern  sojourn 
soon  after  the  middle  of  March,  and  from  its  arrival  until 
late  in  the  fall  its  plaintive  trills  are  a  feature  of  the  scenes 
amid  which  it  resorts.  Colonel  Goss  and  Dr.  Brewer  both 
state  that  the  song  of  the  field  sparrow  is  not  powerful, 
but  the  observations  of  the  writer  lead  him  to  agree  with 
Eobert  Eidgway  in  the  opposite  opinion.  The  latter 
observer  says  that  in  Illinois,  Indiana,  Maryland,  and 
Virginia,  where  he  has  listened  to  its  song  on  countless 
occasions,  he  has  always  regarded  the  song  of  the  field 


148  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

sparrow  as  being  particularly  characterized  by  its  power, 
being  certainly  far  louder  and  capable  of  being  heard  at  a 
much  greater  distance,  than  that  of  the  song  sparrow  or 
vesper  sparrow  or  any  others  of  the  smaller  species  of  this 
family.  The  field  sparrow's  song  is  further  characterized 
by  its  plaintiveness,  and  were  it  not  for  this  quality  would 
rank  among  the  very  finest  bird  songs  which  can  be 
heard  in  our  fields.  Sometimes  a  particularly  gifted  male 
will  repeat  twice  or  three  times  the  usual  song  without 
faltering,  and  then  the  performance  becomes  truly  fine. 
(Natural  History  Survey  of  Illinois,  Vol.  I,  page  276.) 

The  favorite  resorts  of  the  field  sparrows  are  bushy  pas- 
tures or  margins  of  woods.  One  of  my  pleasant  experiences 
occurred  while  I  was  rambling  along  the  edge  of  a  woods- 
pasture,  which  had  grown  up  thickly  with  small  dwarf 
thorn  bushes.  A  sudden  shower  came  up,  and  I  sought 
shelter  from  the  dash  of  rain  by  crouching  under  a  low, 
wide-spreading  haw  tree.  As  the  first  drops 'struck  my 
shelter,  I  observed  a  number  of  field  sparrows  flitting  out 
of  the  woods  ahead  of  the  shower,  and  hurrying  into  the 
scattered  bushes.  They  were  females  which  had  been  out 
refreshing  themselves  after  the  confinement  of  incubation, 
for  I  mentally  marked  a  number  of  the  bushes,  and  on 
investigating  them  after  the  shower  had  passed,  I  found 
nests  in  them,  and  the  females  sitting  cozily  on  their 
treasures.  The  hasty  dash  of  rain  had  driven  them  borne 
to  care  for  their  households.  Perhaps  they  remembered 
that  they  had  left  their  houses  open,  and  bethought  them- 
selves to  hurry  home  to  close  the  windows  and  doors. 
Had  I  not  thus  observed  them  seeking  their  habitations, 
I  should  not  have  been  aware  of  their  nesting  in  such 
numbers.  One  of  the  most  populous  haunts  of  the  field 
sparrow  that  I  ever  knew  was  a  pasture  which  had  been 
cleared  many  years  before,  and  had  lately  grown  over 
with  blackberry,  gooseberry,  hazel,  and  other  low  bushes. 
There  the  familiar  chant  of  the  field  sparrow  was  heard 
all  day  long,  even  in  the  warmest  portion  of  the  after- 
noon. There  the  indigo  bunting  sang  its  persistent 
measures,  and  the  yellow-breasted  chat  whistled  and 
cackled  from  its  close  retreat.  There  also  the  cardinal 
uttered  his  rich  whistle  in  the  early  morning,  and  the 


Field  Sparrow.  149 

towhee  enlivened  the  afternoon  by  its  monotonous  melody. 
Along  the  road  which  bounded  two  sides  of  the  pasture 
was  a  telegraph  line,  and  this  wire  was  a  favorite  point 
of  view  for  the  field  sparrows.  Perched  on  the  wire,  a 
happy  male  would  erect  his  head  proudly  and  utter  his 
plaintive  chant,  retaining  his  place  for  many  minutes,  if 
undisturbed,  and  repeating  his  varied  ditty  from  time  to 
time,  perhaps  attempting  to  please  his  mate  who  sat  in 
her  lowly  home  among  the  bushes. 

The  nest  of  the  field  sparrow  is  placed  low  in  the 
bushes,  generally  less  than  a  foot  from  the  ground.  It  is' 
in  the  central  portion  of  the  bush,  among  upright  stems. 
Sometimes  the  nest  is  placed  on  the  ground,  among  up- 
right stems  of  weeds  and  grasses,  and  often  in  higher 
situations,  in  hedges  and  other  higher  bushes.  Low 
bushes,  less  than  three  feet  high,  however,  are  preferred 
for  sites.  When  the  nest  is  placed  on  the  ground,  it  is 
generally  built  at  the  foot  of  a  protecting  weed  or  stem, 
or  against  a  fallen  branch.  The  nest  is  made  externally 
of  dried  grass,  and  usually  it  is  lined  with  horse  hair,  but 
sometimes  the  lining  is  merely  a  layer  of  finer  grass.  The 
fact  that  both  the  field  and  the  chipping  sparrows  use 
horse  hair  in  the  construction  of  their  nests  has  caused 
them  to  be  designated  "  hair  bird,"  a  title  which  is  ap- 
plied to  either.  The  chippy,  however,  frequently  con- 
structs its  home  entirely  of  hair,  while  the  field  sparrow 
commonly  erects  an  outer  wall  of  dried  grass.  The  nest 
of  the  field  sparrow  is  a  trifle  larger  than  the  home  of  the 
chippy,  and  the  eggs  are  altogether  different.  Most  boys 
and  girls  have  seen  the  delicate  bluish-green  eggs  of  the 
chippy,  with  their  irregular  markings  of  blackish-brown. 
The  eggs  of  the  field  sparrow  have  a  greenish -white 
ground,  and  they  are  marked  irregularly  with  various 
shades  of  brown.  Davie  says  they  average  .68  by  .52  of 
an  inch.  In  most  instances  at  least  two  broods  are  reared 
in  this  locality.  I  have  found  nests  with  fresh  eggs  in 
the  first  half  of  July.  Hereabout,  the  first  nests  generally 
have  their  complements  of  eggs  in  the  first  week  of  May. 

The  field  sparrow  is  one  of  the  chief  victims  of  the  cow- 
bird  in  this  region.  I  have  found  many  nests  in  which 


150  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

the  parasite  had  deposited  its  egg  before  the  rightful 
owner  had  taken  final  possession,  and  which  the  outraged 
sparrows  had  deserted,  not  caring  to  use  the  home  which 
they  had  constructed  with  such  hopeful  anticipations. 
Most  birds  spend  a  few  days  in  visiting  their  companions 
and  in  dallying  about  the  neighborhood  after  completing 
their  home,  before  they  begin  their  regular  occupancy  of 
the  premises.  The  skulking  cowbird,  anxious  to  find 
suitable  foster  parents  for  its  offspring,  makes  the  most 
of  its  opportunities  to  deposit  its  eggs  before  the  selected 
parents  move  into  their  new  domicile.  This  action  of 
the  cowbird  leads  many  birds  to  forsake  the  home  they 
have  prepared,  and  the  cowbird  by  its  precipitancy  thus 
destroys  the  chances  of  safe  issue  of  its  offspring.  I  have 
frequently  removed  the  egg  of  the  parasite  from  a  nest  of 
the  sparrow  which  contained  less  than  a  full  complement 
of  eggs  of  the  owner,  but  the  sparrows  seldom  seemed  to 
regard  the  act  as  a  favor,  and  frequently  deserted  the 
premises  as  though  the  removal  of  the  egg  had  been  an 
outrage.  I  have  concluded  that  the  cowbird  is  perhaps 
as  useful  as  the  sparrow,  and  since  the  sparrows  are 
abundant,  rearing  several  broods  every  season,  and  take 
apparent  delight  in  brooding  the  eggs  in  their  nest,  it  is 
perhaps  as  well  to  leave  the  eggs  as  we  find  them. 

The  late  summer  habits  of  the  field  sparrows  coincide 
with  their  deportment  in  the  earlier  season,  though  they 
resort  less  to  the  bushes,  and  seek  quarters  more  fre- 
quently in  weedy  patches  where  seeds  afford  them  agree- 
able sustenance.  In  the  fall  they  can  be  found  in  clumps 
of  ragweeds,  and  when  disturbed  they  fly  out  into  the 
hedges  with  undulating,  jerky  flight  peculiar  to  the  spar- 
rows. When  they  are  migrating,  usually  in  the  last  weeks 
of  October  and  in  early  November,  they  are  found  alto- 
gether in  weedy  lots  and  along  hedges,  associating  with 
others  of  their  kind.  Their  songs  are  rarely  heard  on  the 
migrations,  and  they  act  in  all  respects  as  though  their 
spirits  were  depressed  by  the  change  from  the  bright  and 
pleasant  scenes  of  the  vanished  summer. 


Cardinal  or  Redbird.  151 


CARDINAL    OE   EEDBIED. 

One  of  the  birds  of  the  bushes  certain  to  attract  notice 
in  this  section  is  the  splendid  cardinal  or  redbird.  If  we 
see  him  flitting  about  during  the  winter,  his  vermilion 
red  plumage,  trimmed  with  black  and  surmounted  by  a 
showy  crest,  forms  an  agreeable  contrast  to  the  dreary 
scenes  about  him,  and  the  rich  whistle  he  utters  fills  the 
frosty  air  with  unaccustomed  vibrations.  When  he  invites 
our  attention  in  the  summer,  his  splendid  colors  are  only 
seen  to  better  advantage  amid  their  verdant  setting,  and 
his  rich,  mellow  notes  seem  fully  in  accord  with  the  beauty 
of  the  warmer  season.  Indeed,  his  beauty  of  plumage  is 
a  challenge  to  those  persons  who  regard  our  native  birds 
as  lacking  in  ornate  coloration,  for  nowhere  do  we  find  a 
bird  more  gayly  robed  than  the  brilliant  cardinal.  More- 
over, the  siib-family  to  which  the  cardinal  belongs  includes 
the  handsome  towhee  and  the  beautiful  rose-breasted 
grosbeak,  and  the  three  species  are  worthy  of  places 
beside  the  bird  beauties  of  the  world.  They  are  eminently 
gifted,  and  their  individual  qualities  of  ornate  plumage, 
sweet  voice,  and  engaging  manners  are  seldom  found  so 
happily  combined.  We  are  particularly  interested  in  the 
cardinal  because  he  is  one  of  the  few  birds  whose  presence 
adds  cheer  to  the  winter  season,  being  a  permanent  resi- 
dent throughout  most  of  Illinois  and  corresponding  lati- 
tudes. As  an  additional  claim  upon  our  regard,  he  does 
not  hesitate  to  take  up  his  summer  quarters  in  town, 
establishing  his  home  in  the  honeysuckle  clambering  over 
the  trellis  almost  within  reach  of  the  door  or  window,  or 
elsewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  our  dwelling;  and  his  full, 
sympathetic  notes  are  frequently  a  feature  of  the  bird-life 
of  a  given  neighborhood  in  the  cities. 

The  most  of  the  summer  birds  of  Illinois  tend  toward 
the  north  in  their  habitat,  but  the  cardinal  belongs  more 
to  the  avi-fauna  of  the  south.  It  is  a  resident  of  the  east- 
ern States,  living  regularly  south  of  the  fortieth  or  forty- 
first  parallel,  but  is  a  casual  visitor  to  the  southern  and 
southwestern  border  of  Ontario.  In  "  Birds  of  Michigan" 


152  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds, 

it  is  recorded  as  breeding  occasionally  in  that  State.  It 
is  said  to  be  a  resident  wherever  it  is  found. 

The  cardinal  is  ordinarily  a  bird  of  the  bushes  in  wood- 
lands, and  it  is  found  in  greatest  abundance  in  the  undis- 
turbed woods  of  the  river  bottoms,  where  dwarf  trees  and 
climbing  vines  furnish  it  convenient  nesting  sites. 
Thickets  in  open  woody  pastures,  and  the  cleared  mar- 
gins of  woods  overgrown  with  wild  gooseberry,  black- 
berry, haw,  and  plum  thickets  are  its  common  resorts. 
It  can  be  observed  to  advantage,  however,  when,  in  com- 
pany with  its  more  plainly  colored  mate,  it  visits  the 
village  and  suburban  gardens  and  dooryards  in  winter, 
the  sharp,  forcible  chirps  apprising  us  of  its  presence. 
On  any  of  the  fine  mornings  of  early  February,  when  the 
genial  sunshine  is  warming  the  frosty  air,  and  the  snowy 
covering  of  the  landscape  is  glistening  with  the  radiant 
gleam,  the  first  summer  Song  of  the  male  is  heard  in  the 
ringing  syllables,  "What  cheer,  cheer,  cheer,  cheer?" 
And  if  we  are  enabled  to  approach  near  enough  to  observe 
him  with  head  proudly  erect,  his  body  elevated,  and  his 
bearing  stately  and  dignified,  we  are  ready  to  admit  that 
spring  can  have  no  more  worthy  or  splendid  herald.  The 
sweetly  plaintive  chant  of  the  "  peabody  bird,"  which  is 
singing  farther  along  the  hedge,  serves  to  enhance  the 
expressive  richness  of  the  cardinal's  song,  and  the  gentle 
tinkle  of  the  tree  sparrow's  silvery  voice  appears  to  be  an 
indistinct  accompaniment.  Little  wonder  that  we  men- 
tally see  robins  squeaking  in  the  tree  tops  and  bluebirds 
"shifting  from  post  to  post,"  as  we  easily  interpret  the 
full-voiced  message  of  the  cheerful  cardinal. 

On  the  bright  mornings  at  the  close  of  winter  the  car- 
dinals are  particularly  active  and  joyous  in  the  swampy 
bottom-lands,  and  with  the  recently  arrived  robins,  song 
sparrows,  and  other  venturesome  species  they  make  the 
desolate  regions  fairly  to  ring  with  their  choruses.  It  is 
probable  that  they  are  mating  at  this  season,  for  a  female 
is  nearlyalways  accompanied  by  a  male,  and  often  by  two 
who  are  seeking  her  favor.  It  seems  to  be  a  friendly 
rivalry,  always  courteous  and  dignified,  as  I  have  never 
seen  them  engaging  in  the  jealous  encounters  which 
accompany  the  courtships  of  the  robins  and  many  other 


Cardinal  or  Redbird.  153 

species.  .Like  typical  nobles  of  olden  times,  never  for- 
getting their  high  position  and  ever  respecting  the  least 
of  the  proprieties,  the  cardinals  move  and  live  truly  kings 
among  their  baser  fellows. 

Like  the  robin,  Baltimore  oriole,  and  other  birds  which 
become  familiar  in  their  manners  and  confiding  in  the 
choice  of  their  nesting  sites,  the  cardinals  sometimes  be- 
come attached  to  particular  locations,  and  occupy  the 
same  spot  for  consecutive  seasons.  Once  a  pair  established 
themselves  in  a  honeysuckle  which  climbed  upon  a  trellis 
standing  about  four  feet  from  a  parlor  window  of  a  house 
in  town.  The  vine  grew  within  twelve  feet  of  a  sidewalk 
used  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  and  in  the  lot  across  the 
street  was  the  largest  church  in  the  community.  In  this 
center  of  activity  the  pair  lived  prosperously  and  joy- 
ously for  several  years.  During  the  early  days  of  spring 
and  during  the  honeymoon  the  birds  flitted  about  over 
the  neighborhood  in  company,  cheerily  whistling  and 
singing;  for  the  female  of  the  species  is.  no  indifferent 
songster,  her  performances  being  well  rendered,  and  only 
a  degree  inferior  to  the  mellow  fluting  of  the  male.  In 
the  period  of  nidification,  the  notes  of  the  male  grew  more 
varied  and  expressive;  and  when  the  time  of  incubation 
came,  and  the  female  patiently  brooded  over  her  home, 
the  devoted  husband  sat  on  the  top  of  the  trellis  as  his 
most  favored  perch,  and  there  eloquently  proclaimed  his 
devotion  and  happiness.  Many  birds  jealously  refrain 
from  uttering  their  notes  in  the  vicinity  of  their  nests, 
lest  they  betray  the  secret  of  their  joy;  but  the  cardinal 
can  strike  his  sweetest  tones  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
his  home. 

When  I  visited  the  family  living  in  the  house,  1  always 
managed  to  take  a  peep  ai  the  home  presided  over  so 
gracefully  by  the  mother  cardinal.  The  chief  feature 
which  first  attracted  my  attention  was  her  enormously 
large  bill,  which  had  a  decided  tinge  of  vermilion  in  its 
coloring;  and  I  understood  why  the  species  is  sometimes 
called  the  cardinal  grosbeak,  for  the  great  bill  ii3  notably 
characteristic.  Her  back  was  dark  olive,  while  her  crest, 
no  less  elevated  than  that  of  the  male,  was  only  tinged 
with  the  showy  vermilion  which  rendered  the  male  so 


154  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

conspicuous.  Her  wings  and  her  tail — the  latter  showing 
conspicuously  over  the  rim  of  her  bark-woven  home — 
were  colored  to  correspond  with  her  crest.  She  was  a 
close  sitter,  and  after  a  few  visits  she  would  not  slip  from 
the  nest  unless  startled  by  some  awkward  or  threatening 
movement  of  the  observer.  Then  she  would  flit  about  the 
premises  and  utter  that  sharp  chirp,  and  her  knightly  hus- 
band would  join  her  with  his  earnest  remonstrances.  Soon 
I  would  leave  the  habitation  undisturbed,  and  presently 
the  eloquent  whistling  of  the  happy  male  told  me  that 
peace  again  reigned  over  the  embowered  fountain  of  his 

j°y-. 

The  nests  of  the  cardinal  are  constructed  soon  after  the 
middle  of  April  in  favorite  localities,  and  somewhat  later 
in  other  regions.  While  enjoying  an  outing  in  the  river 
bottom  near  Pearl,  Illinois,  on  May  6th,  I  found  a  nest  of 
the  cardinal  containing  three  young  birds  several  days 
old;  hence  this  nest  doubtless  was  founded  about  the 
middle  of  April.  The  season,  however,  was  exceptionally 
early,  and  averaged  two  weeks  earlier  than  ordinary 
seasons.  May  is  the  month  when  most  of  the  nests  are 
built  and  the  eggs  deposited,  and  June  and  July  are  pretty 
certain  to  witness  nests  and  fresh  eggs  of  the  species. 
These  data  indicate  that  the  breeding  season  is  long  and 
uncertain,  and  perhaps  more  than  one  brood  is  reared  in 
some  instances.  The  site  of  the  nest  is  commonly  be- 
tween four  and  eight  feet  from  the  ground,  and  climbing 
or  tangled  vines  appear  to  furnish  the  most  desirable 
places.  I  found  a  nest  one  spring  against  a  fence-post, 
set  in  a  clambering  grapevine,  near  a  railroad;  and  all  of 
seven  nests  of  the  cardinals  that  I  examined  in  1896,  with 
one  exception,  were  placed  in  the  stems  of  climbing  vines. 
Wild  gooseberry  bushes  and  small  haw  and  other  trees  are 
regularly  selected  in  which  to  place  their  habitations.  The 
cardinal  is  commonly  more  shy  and  retiring  at  the  season 
of  nidification  and  incubation  than  at  other  times,  and  in- 
stances of  its  nesting  in  public  places  are  the  exceptions. 

The  nest  is  usually  composed  externally  of  coarse  pieces 
of  dried  leaves  and  weed  stems,  frequently  on  a  founda- 
tion of  paper,  rags,  or  any  materials  obtainable,  unless  in 
regular  wildwood  surroundings.  Grapevine  bark  appears 


Cardinal  or  Redbird.  155 

to  be  au  almost  indispensable  material,  and  it  is  used  in 
rounding  up  the  walls  and  also  in  the  base  of  the  struc- 
ture. In  most  cases  the  nest  is  lined  with  a  layer  of  wiry, 
reddish  stems  and  rootlets.  The  eggs  in  a  complement 
number  three  or  four.  They  are  greenish  white,  marked 
irregularly  with  spots  of  reddish  brown.  They  average 
1.00  by  .75  of  an  inch. 

When  the  young  cardinals  leave  the  nest  and  take  their 
first  lessons  in  domestic  economy,  they  resort  to  the  weed 
patches  bordering  streams  and  ravines  in  wooded  regions, 
where  in  company  with  young  towhees,  sparrows,  and 
other  granivorous  birds  they  feed  on  the  seeds  of  weeds 
and  grasses.  The  most  of  the  food  of  the  cardinals  ia 
found  on  the  ground  and  among  the  weeds,  and  often  they 
can  be  heard  rustling  among  the  leaves  in  their  forest 
home  searching  for  larval  worms,  insects,  and  seeds.  They 
are  frequent  visitors  to  the  feedyards  of  rural  homes, 
where  they  pick  up  neglected  grain,  and  often  forage 
around  the  corn-pens  in  winter  to  glean  the  scattered  mor- 
sels. The  wild  berries  and  grapes  found  in  the  woods  in 
late  summer  and  through  autumn  and  winter  furnish 
them  a  bountiful  living,  and  on  their  leisurely  excursions 
through  the  gardens,  yards,  and  orchards  they  fare  sump- 
tuously on  the  berries,  seeds,  and  insects  they  secure. 
The  seeds  of  the  sunflower  attract  them  to  our  yards  and 
gardens,  and  very  early  in  the  mornings  they  can  be 
observed  taking  their  breakfast  from  the  ripened  heads 
with  evident  pleasure. 

The  cardinal  does  not  cease  to  manifest  its  cheerful 
spirit  after  its  youngsters  have  left  the  parental  home, 
but  through  the  remaining  portion  of  the  summer  and 
late  into  fall  its  varied  and  interesting  notes  enliven  the 
neighborhood  it  frequents.  Its  persistency  and  beauty  of 
expression  have  caused  it  to  be  regarded  with  favor  as  a 
cage  bird,  together  with  its  surpassing  brilliancy  of 
plumage.  Indeed,  in  the  early  history  of  our  country  it 
was  christened  the  Yirginia  nightingale  because  of  its 
vocal  powers,  singing  as  it  does  from  early  February  to 
early  November  in  favored  regions.  The  author  of  "Our 
Birds  in  Their  Haunts"  thus  speaks  of  the  cardinal: 
"  Nor  does  it, render  a  mere  matin  or  vesper  hymn,  but 


156  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

may  fife  its  loudest,  clearest  melody  at  almost  any  hour 
of  the  day.  In  the  breeding  season  its  song  is  almost  as 
full  of  enthusiasm  and  gesticulation  as  that  of  the  purple 
finch.  His  shy  ways,  in  the  northern  limits  of  his  habitat, 
as  he  hops  slyly  about  the  thicket  in  winter,  or  retires  to 
the  deep  forest  in  the  breeding  season,  are  strangely  in 
contrast  with  his  familiar  ways  in  the  south.  There  he 
may  dust  himself  in  the  highway  till  you  almost  trample 
upon  him,  may  build  his  nest  as  near  human  dwellings  as 
does  the  thrasher  or  the  mocking-bird,  or  visit  the  farm- 
yard in  company  with  sparrows,  jays,  and  turtle-doves  to 
share  the  food  of  the  common  poultry  in  winter." 

The  cardinal  is  similar  to  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak 
and  the  towhee  in  its  apparent  dislike  for  long  flights.  Its 
powers  of  wing  are  strong,  but  its  flight  is  marked  by  the 
somewhat  undulating  motion  of  the  Pringillidae.  It  does 
not  sustain  itself  in  long  passages,  flitting  from  point  to 
point  rather  than  continuing  to  its  destination  in  one 
course.  Nor  does  it  aspire  to  mount  high  in  the  world, 
but  frequents  the  lower  branches  of  the  trees  and  the  tops 
of  the  higher  bushes  in  preference  to  the  treetops.  It 
appears  to  pass  its  days  with  little  of  the  bustle  and  burry 
which  mark  the  lives  of  some  of  our  birds,  always  easy 
and  graceful  in  movement,  steady  and  stately  in  deport- 
ment, a  worthy  representative  of  the  first  families  of  the 
"Old  Dominion." 


INDIGO    BUNTING. 

How  rapidly  pass  the  few  summer  weeks  of  bird  court- 
ship, love,  and  songl  To-day  is  the  first  of  August,  and 
the  long,  heated  afternoon  has  just  begun.  The  trees 
about  my  study  window,  which  were  animate  with  the 
movements  of  joyous  birds  earlier  in  the  season,  now  seem 
entirely  deserted,  and  droop  their  leaves  as  though  they 
also  were  influenced  by  the  noontide  heat.  Some  of  the 
birds  are  yet  stirring,  however,  for  in  a  plum  tree  yonder 
the  sharp  "  cheep  "  of  the  young  catbirds,  just  led  from 
the  nest  by  their  dilatory  parents,  comes  to  my  earr  and 
the  low,  liquid  "  quoot  "  of  the  elders  is  heard,  announcing 


YOUNG    INDIGO    BUNTINGS,    WITH    NEST. 

From  life.    After  Shufeldt. 


Indigo  Bunting.  157 

to  the  younglings  that  the  demanded  food  is  near.  Nor 
have  the  bird  songs  all  ceased,  either;  for  now  the  merry 
carol  of  a  goldfinch  floats  to  ray  ear  as  the  happy  fellow 
bounds  through  the  air.  A  robin  is  bravely  singing,  too, 
hidden  by  the  foliage  of  the  high  maple  in  which  be  is 
perched,  and  at  regular  intervals  comes  the  trill  of  a  chip- 
ping sparrow  from  the  top  of  a  smaller  maple.  Now  an- 
other familiar  voice  gives  pleasure,  singing  from  a  yet 
lower  level ;  for  in  the  top  of  a  small  plum  tree  an  indigo 
bunting  chants  as  loudly  and  blithely  as  in  the  earlier 
days.  Surely  if  generous  measure  can  render  the  music 
of  any  bird  acceptable,  the  little  indigo  bunting  deserves 
a  high  rank  among  our  songsters.  The  quality  of  its 
fervid  roundelays,  however,  is  little  inferior  to  the  quan- 
tity; and  lovers  of  bird  music  can  not  tire  of  the  pretty 
little  strains  it  delivers  so  regularly  and  persistently. 

la  my  early  wildwood  rambles  I  soon  formed  the  ac- 
quaintance of  this  little  creature,  so  ornately  attired  and 
musically  gifted.  I  could  not  fail  to  notice  it;  for  as  I  sat 
on  the  shady  bank  of  my  favorite  fishing  resort,  more  in- 
terested in  the  birds  than  in  my  idle  cork,  the  indigo 
bunting  would  perch  in  the  tree-top  above  me  and  chant 
its  vigorous  measures.  As  the  days  grew  warmer,  and 
the  harmony  of  the  woods  became  weaker,  its  strains 
seemed  yet  louder,  and  in  July  the  wildwood  chorus 
dwindled  to  a  trio  which  never  failed  to  yield  me  pleas- 
ure— the  blithe  carols  of  the  indigo  bunting  in  the  tree- 
top,  the  sweet  chants  of  the  song  sparrow  in  the  top  of  a 
brush-heap,  and  the  short,  merry  whistle  of  the  yellow- 
throat  in  the  lower  bushes.  Indeed,  it  seemed  to  me  that 
only  in  July  the  song  of  the  indigo  bird  arose  in  spirit 
and  power,  for  then  its  fervor  and  fluency  most  claimed 
my  attention. 

In  the  midday  July  heat  it  chooses  a  perch  in  the  sum- 
mit of  a  garden  tree,  or  on  the  telegraph  wire  near  its 
haunts,  and  there  it  delivers  its  pleasing  chants.  Unlike 
the  vireos,  it  is  a  bird  of  the  sunlight,  and  only  in  the 
direct  sunshine  does  it  sing  at  its  best.  Nor  does  it  sing 
as  an  accompaniment  to  its  work;  but,  like  the  song 
sparrow,  with  which  it  often  associates,  it  sings  from  its 
love  of  melody  and  from  an  overflowing  spirit.  Lifting 


158  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

its  head  proudly  toward  the  unclouded  blue,  of  which  its 
dress  appears  to  be  a  fragment,  it  pours  forth  its  little 
roundels  of  joy  with  freedom  and  animation.  In  my 
younger  days,  the  indigo  bird  a-top  of  the  apple  tree  in 
the  garden  was  a  regular  feature  of  the  heated  summer 
noontime,  and  somehow  I  then  formed  the  notion  that  it 
comes  among  us  only  in  the  glare  and  brilliance  of  the 
midsummer;  but  I  afterward  learned  that  it  takes  the 
brightest  sunshine  to  develop  both  its  melody  and  its 
rich  beauty  of  plumage. 

One  day  I  had  a  good  opportunity  to  observe  the 
splendid  colors  of  a  male  indigo  bird.  While  I  was  stand- 
ing in  my  garden  almost  concealed  by  the  rank  vegetation 
which  had  grown  rapidly  during  my  absence,  a  male  of 
the  species  dropped  upon  an  oblique  spike  of  the  blossom 
of  a  convenient  cornstalk,  and  there  in  the  brilliant  sun- 
shine he  quietly  sat  and  allowed  me  to  observe  him  at 
length.  The  term  indigo  is  weak  in  expressing  the  rich- 
ness and  warmth  of  the  deep  ultramarine  blue  displayed 
by  the  plumage  of  the  head,  neck,  shoulders,  and  upper 
back;  and  the  darker  bluish-green  of  the  lower  back  and 
tail  was  far  from  the  dead  hue  of  indigo.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  the  tropical  sun  could  develop  colors  no  brighter 
nor  more  beautiful  than  adorn  our  little  indigo  bird,  and 
the  little  fellow  appears  to  know  that  it  needs  the  strong 
sunlight  to  reflect  the  beauty  of  his  coat.  Seen  in  the 
shade  or  at  a  distance,  the  dead  blue  predominates  in  his 
color,  and  then  he  is  called  the  "  blue  linnet,"  while  in 
other  lights  the  green  is  more  prominent,  and  hence  he  is 
designated  as  the  "green  linnet"  or  "green  bird." 

The  summer  home  of  the  indigo  bunting  is  eastern 
United  States,  extending  northward  into  Canada,  and 
westward  to  the  edge  of  the  great  plains,  breeding  chiefly 
north  of  the  Gulf  States.  Its  winter  home  is  Cuba,  east- 
ern Mexico,  and  Central  America.  The  first  individuals 
of  the  species  appear  among  us  on  the  spring  migration 
about  the  end  of  the  third  week  of  April,  lacking  some  of 
the  old  confidence  at  first  appearance,  but  soon  acquiring 
spirit  and  animation.  They  are  emphatically  birds  of  the 
bushes  wherever  found,  preferring  the  bushy  borders  of 
streams  with  a  narrow  fringing  of  woods,  or  the  edges  of 


Indigo  Bunting.  159 

woods  and  clearings.  They  make  themselves  perfectly 
at  home  in  gardens  containing  low  trees  and  shrubbery, 
and  while  they  are  not  so  familiar  as  some  of  the  birds 
dwelling  about  village  and  city  gardens,  they  are  natural 
at  all  times.  In  fact,  they  are  never  disposed  to  be  her- 
mits or  recluses  in  their  habits,  and  are  seldom  found  in 
the  dense,  more  primeval  woodlands.  Bushes  along  rail- 
roads seem  to  meet  their  ideas  of  a  desirable  neighbor- 
hood, for  on  the  ground  under  the  clustering  vegetation 
they  can  pick  up  the  fallen  seeds  of  weeds  or  sit  in  the 
cool  shade  when  they  desire.  On  the  telegraph  wire  they 
can  sit  in  the  sunshine  and  chant  to  their  heart's  content, 
while  among  the  foliage  of  the  bushes  they  can  construct 
their  nests,  and  the  female  can  sit  ensconced  in  her  cozy 
cottage  while  her  husband  watches  and  sings  from  his 
perch  above  her. 

Their  homes  in  the  bushes  along  the  railroads  are  likely 
to  come  to  sudden  grief,  however.  In  the  nesting  time 
one  year,  a  fragment  of  the  history  of  an  unfortunate 
family  fell  under  my  observation.  Walking  along  the 
track  one  morning  in  late  May,  I  found  myself  face  to 
face  with  a  mother  indigo  bird,  who  was  peering  at  me 
over  the  brim  of  her  home  in  a  small  elm  bush  beside  the 
path  in  which  I  was  walking  near  the  rails.  I  have  seen 
some  pretty  bird  pictures,  but  that  one  held  me  fascinated 
for  some  time  as  I  took  in  every  detail,  and  impressed  on 
my  mind  a  little  bit  of  nature  that  I  can  now  recall  with 
interest.  The  bush  was  almost  open  on  the  side  toward 
which  I  approached  the  nest,  and  the  mother  bird  sat 
facing  me,  as  though  she  knew  that  the  rear  was  well 
screened  by  foliage  and  she  must  keep  a  sharp  lookout  in 
front.  Her  little  body  sank  well  into  the  nest,  but  her 
head  rested  with  the  chin  on  the  rim  of  the  structure,  and 
her  bright  eyes  held  a  queer  expression  of  curious  interest, 
for  I  saw  she  was  by  no  means  frightened  nor  even  anx- 
ious. I  could  carefully  note  the  colors  of  her  plumage 
exposed  to  view,  and  even  when  I  moved  up  closer  ehe 
sat  composed  and  dignified.  I  decided  that  she  certainly 
had  young  under  her,  she  sat  so  closely  upon  her  charge. 
Bending  over  within  three  feet  of  her,  I  could  see  that  the 
brown  of  her  back  was  no  more  brown  than  the  indigo  of 


160  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

her  mate  was  not  indigo,  for  there  was  enough  blue  ting- 
ing shoulders  and  back  to  make  them  almost  "  dove '' 
color,  similar  to  the  vinaceous  tints  of  the  prairie  horned 
lark,  or  shading  darker  than  the  colors  of  the  dove  with- 
out the  metallic  reflections.  Stepping  yet  nearer,  I  startled 
her  from  her  nest,  and  she  flitted  to  the  fence  near  by, 
hopping  around  and  facing  meas  she  chirped  with  anxiety. 
Then  I  could  note  the  dingy  white  colors  of  her  breast, 
which  seemed  to  have  a  faint  tinge  of  yellow.  Her  calls  of 
alarm  and  anxiety  brought  another  form  to  her  side,  and 
to  see  them  apart,  who  would  ever  suppose  that  both  birds 
were  of  the  same  species?  They  were  as  unlike  in  colors 
as  the  male  and  female  of  the  scarlet  tanager,  or  the  male 
and  female  of  the  orchard  and  Baltimore  orioles.  Look- 
ing into  the  nest  left  exposed  by  the  mother  bird,  what 
was  my  surprise  to  see  only  one  egg,  for  I  had  never 
witnessed  so  much  faithfulness  exhibited  in  the  care  of  a 
single  fresh  egg.  Eeturning  that  way  in  the  evening,  I 
approached  the  spot  cautiously,  this  time  from  the  rear  ; 
and  as  I  had  expected,  I  found  the  female  sitting  upon 
her  solitary  treasure.  After  again  enjoying  the  pretty 
picture,  I  startled  her  from  her  home,  this  time  to  be 
further  surprised  by  seeing  a  newly-hatched,  naked  little 
nestling!  I  could  now  account  for  the  faithfulness  of  the 
mother  in  the  morning.  But  how  did  it  happen  that  she 
had  been  brooding  only  one  egg?  Yisiting  the  spot 
several  days  later,  I  found  the  bush  cut  close  to  the  ground 
by  the  indifferent  men  who  kept  the  track  in  order,  and 
I  reflected  that  the  faithful  care  of  that  little  mother  bird 
in  brooding  one  egg  had  been  lost.  No,  not  lost,  for  the 
expenditure  of  the  mother's  love  for  her  infant  can  not  be 
in  vain,  though  the  babe  live  only  long  enough  to  die  in 
her  yearning  arms.  The  maternal  love  must  ever  enrich 
the  heart  that  enshrines  it,  and  so  I  imagined  that  the 
songs  of  this  pair  were  only  more  tender  and  expressive 
after  their  sad  experience  of  the  summer. 

The  nests  of  the  indigo  bunting  are  seldom  begun  be- 
fore the  middle  of  May  in  this  section.  The  sites  most 
favored  are  usually  in  low  bushes,  clumps  of  wild  black- 
berry, hazel,  and  elm.  The  indigo  bunting  does  not  hesi- 
tate to  establish  its  home  in  the  gooseberry,  blackberry, 


Indigo  Bunting.  161 

and  raspberry  bushes  of  the  gardens  in  town.  The  most 
of  the  nests  I  have  examined  were  placed  among  upright 
stems,  held  in  place  by  the  loose  outward  pressure  of  the 
light  materials  in  the  nest.  In  other  cases  the  nest  is 
placed  in  an  upright  crotch,  and  it  is  commonly  built  be- 
tween two  and  seven  feet  from  the  ground,  the  higher 
sites  being  found  in  hedges  and  larger  bushes.  Most  of 
the  nests  are  between  two  and  five  feet  from  the  ground. 
The  indigo  bird  pays  little  attention  to  the  construction 
of  an  artistic  home.  Its  nest  is  somewhat  bulky  for  the 
ideal  of  so  small  a  builder,  and  is  very  similar  to  the  work 
of  the  cardinal  in  miniature,  or  a  smaller  edition  of  the 
home  of  the  dickcissel.  It  is  made  externally  of  dried 
weed-stems  and  pieces  of  leaves,  mingled  with  which  are 
bits  of  grayish  vegetable  down  and  gossamer.  It  is  lined 
with  fine,  bright  dried  grass.  Like  the  nest  of  the  chat, 
which  it  likewise  resembles  except  in  its  smaller  size,  it 
has  a  foundation  largely  of  coarse  pieces  of  soft,  dried 
leaves.  The  cavity  is  about  two  and  three-eighths  inches 
across  at  the  top,  and  is  about  one  inch  and  one-fourth 
deep.  The  early  complement  of  eggs  usually  consists  of 
four,  but  in  July  I  frequently  find  nests  containing  only 
three  incubated  eggs.  They  are  white,  with  a  faint  bluish 
tinge,  generally  unspotted,  frequently  with  a  few  dots  of 
light  brown.  They  average  .75  by  .55.  As  the  breeding 
season  extends  well  into  July  and  even  early  August,  it  is 
probable  that  two  broods  are  reared  in  this  locality  in 
most  instances. 

Many  birds  find  little  time  and  perhaps  have  little  in- 
clination to  exercise  their  musical  abilities  after  the  nest- 
ing period  begins.  The  little  indigo  bird,  however,  seems 
to  find  inspiration  in  his  increasing  household  cares,  and 
as  the  prospects  of  his  family  grow  brighter,  his  voice 
rings  out  in  added  strength  and  persistency.  When  the 
nestlings  appear,  he  joins  hands  with  the  mother  bird  in 
bringing  them  food  and  in  otherwise  caring  for  them ; 
yet  still  he  finds  time,  succeeding  each  of  .his  short  ex- 
cursions after  food,  to  stop  in  his  favorite  perch  and  sing  a 
few  tuneful  strains.  At  noontime,  when  the  heat  deters 
the  fond  parents  from  active  labors  in  behalf  of  the  little 
11 


162  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

ones,  he  passes  the  hour  gayly  chanting  his  choicest 
measures.  When  the  brood  has  left  the  nest,  and  the 
little  ones  have  been  carefully  taught  the  art  of  bread- 
winning,  the  songs  become  less  frequent,  and  gradually 
fail;  and  thenceforth  our  little  friend  attracts  no  attention. 

In  the  earlier  days  of  the  season  the  indigo  birds  spend 
considerable  time  on  the  ground,  under  the  weeds  and 
bushes,  probably  feeding  on  the  weed  seeds,  and  searching 
for  the  various  forms  of  insect  life  on  which  they  chiefly 
feed.  The  females  frequent  the  bushes  more  generally 
than  the  males,  probably  knowing  that  their  less  splendid 
dress  will  seem  poor  by  contrast.  At  any  rate,  they  are 
more  retiring  than  the  males,  and  are  rarely  seen  out  in 
the  sunshine  with  them.  The  males,  however,  apparently 
do  not  think  less  of  the  demure  little  creatures  retiring 
among  the  weeds  and  bushes,  and  they,  too,  must  spend 
much  of  their  time  winning  the  favor  of  the  little  brown 
beauties  in  their  secluded  resorts. 

While  I  have  no  authoritative  data  concerning  the  sub- 
ject, I  infer  that  a  large  share  of  the  insect  food  of  these 
birds  is  found  on  or  near  the  ground,  and  among  the 
foliage  of  the  weeds  and  bushes.  They  are  members  of 
the  great  family  of  finches,  and,  true  to  the  habits  of  the 
majority  of  the  group,  the  indigo  buntings  feed  largely  on 
the  seeds  of  the  weeds  among  which  they  resort.  They 
are  probably  very  beneficial,  being  free  from  any  impu- 
tation of  harm,  and  have  ever  been  regarded  with  favor 
wherever  their  showy  attire  and  lively  chanting  have 
called  attention  to  their  movements.  In  the  later  days  of 
the  season  the  males  are  found  among  the  bushes  and 
weeds,  with  the  females  and  young  of  the  year,  living 
silent  and  retired  where  their  food  is  easily  obtained, 
until  the  great  southward  movement  of  the  birds  in  the  , 
latter  half  of  September  sweeps  them  along  from  the 
scenes  of  their  summer  joys  and  sorrows,  and  they  hasten 
to  the  lands  of  ever-verdant  foliage. 


YOUNG   YELLOW-BREASTED    CHATS,   WITH    NEST. 

From  life.     After  Shufeldt. 


Yellow -Breasted   Chat.  163 


YELLOW-BKEASTED    CHAT. 

Surely  if  there  is  a  sprite  among  the  birds,  it  is  the 
yellow-breasted  chat !  For  years  he  tantalized  me  by 
whistling  at  me  from  his  bushy  tangle,  and  then  hiding 
elsewhere  in  his  covert  before  my  eager  eyes  could  obtain 
even  a  glimpse  of  him.  He  certainly  is  the  "artful 
dodger"  among  the  feathered  kind,  and  often,  the  in- 
quisitive visitor  to  his  haunts  has  been  led  a  merry  chase 
by  this  dancing  sprite  of  the  tangle.  There  are  many 
birds  that  are  retiring  and  secretive  in  their  favorite  re- 
sorts, but  the  yellow-breasted  chat  is  usually  noisy  and 
loquacious,  and  hence  apparently  easy  to  discover.  When, 
we  seek  him,  however,  we  find  that  where  he  seems  to  be 
he  is  not  present.  Indeed,  he  is  likely  to  be  heard  in 
quite  another  place,  just  when  we  think  we  must  surely 
surprise  him  this  time.  Penetrating  a  clump  of  briers  to 
rout  him  from  his  covert,  we  find  that  he  is  already  gone, 
and  even  beginning  his  whistle  in  another  place;  and  fol- 
lowing to  catch  sight  of  the  artful  whistler,  we  hear  him 
in  the  former  stronghold,  composedly  whistling  and  cack- 
ling and  calling.  Thus  I  learned  to  know  the  chat,  recog- 
nizing his  peculiar  voice  and  some  of  his  varied  calls  be- 
fore I  saw  his  handsome  form;  but  at  length  I  became 
more  successful  in  my  efforts  to  learn  the  queer  ways  and 
eccentric  behavior  of  this  wildwood  harlequin,  and  often 
saw  him  at  his  best. 

My  first  glimpse  of  the  chat  was  obtained  among  the 
tangled  weeds  and  bushes  skirting  the  little  stream  along 
which  I  so  frequently  rambled.  I  had  reached  a  small 
bend  of  the  creek  inclosing  a  little  peninsula  thickly 
grown  with  bushes,  from  whose  weedy  coverts  I  heard  the 
clear  calls  of  the  Maryland  yellow-throat,  the  chants  of 
the  song  sparrow,  the  loud  whistling  of  the  cardinal,  and 
among  them  a  new  voice,  which  sounded  to  me  like  the 
whistle  of  a  schoolboy  as  a  signal  to  his  mates,  except  in 
its  monotone  or  lack  of  inflection.  It  caught  my  ear  on 
the  instant,  and  I  was  soon  pressing  forward  to  find  the 
restless  whistler,  when  his  call  arose  farther  ahead;  and 
now  he  followed  his  whistling  by  a  strange  cackling,  very 


164  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

similar  to  the  calls  of  young  grackles  iu  their'nosts,  or 
the  calling  of  the  kingrail,  with  less  intensity.  Then  he 
varied  his  performance  by  a  loud,  clumsily  executed  imi- 
tation of  the  mewing  of  the  house  cat,  from  which  the 
novice  might  have  suspected  that  the  concealed  performer 
was  a  catbird;  but  no  catbird  ever  uttered  so  odd  a  jav- 
gon  of  abrupt,  smothered  whistles  and  choked  detona- 
tions as  issued  from  the  throat  of  the  loquacious  songster. 
Some  parts  of  the  quaint  productions  reminded  me  of  the 
imitations  of  the  mocking-bird,  but  they  lacked  all  the 
sweet,  sympathetic  qualities  and  softly  varied  modulations 
of  that  past-master  of  wildwood  song.  After  some  min- 
utes of  cautious  peering  through  the  intervening  shrub- 
bery, and  some  strategic  movements  to  gain  better  points 
of  view,  I  detected  the  active  musician — a  bird  somewhat 
smaller  than  the  catbird,  though  apparently  of  stouter 
build — dodging  among  the  foliage  of  the  tangle. 

Seen  at  rest  for  a  few  moments,  when  he  takes  a  station 
toward  the  upper  branches  of  a  large  tree  and  delivers 
his  quaint  medley  before  dropping  headlong  into  his 
covert,  the  chat  is  a  handsome,  showy  bird,  with  glossy 
olive-green  upper  parts  and  rich  yellow  breast,  the  other 
under  parts  showing  white.  He  is  certainly  thoughtfully 
named,  both  as  to  his  yellow  breast  and  his  title  of  chat; 
for  his  volubility,  though  of  a  sputtering  sort,  establishc-.s 
his  right  to  the  latter  portion  of  the  title.  His  generic 
name,  Icteria,  reminds  us  of  the  yellow  of  his  breast,  and 
his  specific  name  of  virens  refers  to  the  green  tinge  of  his 
back;  hence,  if  we  can  remember  his  technical  name  and 
its  meaning,  we  can  always  think  of  his  showy  colors  in 
the  same  connection.  On  the  other  hand,  when  we  learn 
to  know  the  bird  and  can  picture  his  handsome  appear- 
ance, we  may  be  able  to  recall  his  scientific  title  by  think- 
ing of  his  colors.  The  partially  successful  imitations  and 
the  varied  repertoire  of  the  chat  have  caused  him  to  be 
styled  the  "yellow mocking-bird"  in  many  localities;  but, 
judged  by  the  standard  of  real  melody,  ho  ranks  rather 
low  in  the  list  of  songsters,  in  my  estimation. 

Robert  Kidgway  gives  the  home  of  the  yellow-breasted 
chat  as  eastern  United  States ;  north  to  the  Connecticut 
Yalley  and  Great  Lakes;  west  to  the  borders  of  the 


Yellow- Breasted  Chat.  165 

Greut  Plains.  It  winters  in  eastern  Mexico  and  Guate- 
mala. It  is  said  to  be  rare  in  the  northern  portions  of 
our  State,  and  indeed  I  have  not  found  it  really  abundant 
in  any  of  the  resorts  where  I  have  seen  it  in  this  section. 
It  returns  to  its  summer  home  at  about  the  time  of  the 
great  northward  movement  of  the  vireos,  warblers,  and 
other  species  dependent  on  the  foliage  for  the  major  part 
of  their  sustenance,  arriving  here  during  the  latter  days 
of  April  and  in  early  May. 

The  males  travel  in  advance  of  the  females,  and  come 
in  full  song,  soon  announcing  their  presence  by  their  pe- 
culiar, original  performances.  In  an  open,  bushy  pasture 
between  two  patches  of  woodland  I  frequently  found  the 
<3hats.  Among  the  wild  blackberry  and  hazel  bushes  they 
could  flit  and  dodge,  and  when  so  inclined  they  could 
perch  upon  the  telegraph  wire  that  was  stretched  along 
the  road  between  the  two  pieces  of  woodland,  and  there 
whistle,  cackle,  mew,  and  sputter  as  they  pleased.  At  the 
sight  of  approaching  persons,  they  were  certain  to  drop 
headlong  into  the  thickets.  There  they  made  themselves 
neighbors  to  the  field  sparrows,  hiding  their  homes  in  ad- 
joining bushes,  associating  also  with  the  indigo  buntings, 
towhees,  and  cardinals,  which  made  their  dwellings  in  the 
tangles,  though  there  appeared  to  be  little  affinity  between 
the  chats  and  their  neighbors.  Indeed,  I  seldom  see  two 
chats  together,  wherever  I  find  them;  and  I  have  formed 
the  notion  that,  as  individuals,  they  are  too  fond  of  their 
own  performances  to  listen  quietly  to  those  of  their  fol- 
lows, and  hence  prefer  to  skulk  and  chat  apart  from 
others. 

The  bushes  which  fringe  the  banks  of  the  swamp-lakes 
and  which  crowd  the  edges  of  the  bottom  woodlands  are 
famous  resorts  for  the  chats,  and  there  I  found  them 
dwelling  and  nesting  most  commonly  in  this  section. 
Bushy  areas  and  thickets  along  secluded  streams  at- 
tract them,  though  they  prefer  bushes  in  open  areas  to 
undergrowth,  liking  the  sunlight  better  than  the  shade, 
and  displaying  their  greatest  animation  and  powers  of 
voice  under  the  influence  of  the  warmest  sunshine.  How- 
ever, I  have  heard  the  chats  sing  in  the  early  hours  of 
the  night,  perhaps  called  from  restless  slumber  by  the 


166  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

soft,  liquid  strains  of  the  catbirds  who  were  serenading 
their  lady-loves;  yet  the  best  and  most  varied  per- 
formances of  the  chats  are  rarely  heard  in  the  night.  In 
my  experience  the  chats  sing  as  frequently  on  dark  nights 
as  in  the  moonlight,  though  these  songs  of  the  night  are 
delivered  only  in  the  mating  and  early  breeding  season. 

The  nesting  season  of  the  chats  begins  generally  with 
the  last  week  of  May,  though  in  advanced  seasons  they 
commence  the  work  of  nest-building  soon  after  the  middle 
of  May.  In  1896  I  found  nests  with  well  incubated  eggs 
on  May  29th,  and  eggs  in  nests  found  on  June  3d  were 
about  ready  to  hatch.  In  ordinary  years  the  nests  con- 
tain their  full  complements  of  eggs  about  the  end  of  the 
first  week  of  June.  The  site  of  the  nest  is  generally  in 
the  most  tangled  portions  of  the  copse  selected,  though 
frequently  I  find  nests  in  detached  low  bushes.  The 
densest  portion  of  the  hazel  copse  and  clumps  of  briery 
bushes  mingled  with  vines  are  preferred  as  sites  for  their 
habitations.  The  nests  are  ordinarily  closely  screened  by 
surrounding  stems  and  foliage,  but  they  can  not  be  regu- 
larly overlooked  by  experienced  observers  any  more  than 
other  nests  in  the  bushes,  where  so  much  of  the  view  is 
obstructed  by  intersecting  stems  and  overlapping  leaves. 
I  frequently  find  them  placed  in  the  base  of  a  clump  of 
"buck-brush,"  where  there  is  no  surrounding  vegetation 
to  screen  them,  and  also  in  low  elm  bushes  in  retired  lo- 
calities, no  more  closely  concealed  than  nests  of  the  car- 
dinal. The  most  of  the  nests  are  between  one  and  three 
feet  from  the  ground,  though  sometimes  the  nest  is  found 
as  high  as  six  feet  from  the  ground.  Davie  records  an 
instance  to  show  that  a  pair  built  in  a  wren  box  attached 
to  one  of  the  pillars  of  a  piazza  which  partially  fronted  a 
small  ravine.  The  chats  are  not  averse  to  taking  up  their 
quarters  even  in  town,  if  the  conditions  are  favorable.  In 
the  middle  of  June,  1896,  I  heard  daily  the  characteristic 
and  unmistakable  notes  of  the  chats  as  I  passed  along 
College  Avenue,  in  Carlinville,  Illinois,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  the  birds  were  nesting  in  the  bushy  yards  and 
gardens. 

The  nest  is  usually  placed  among  upright  stems,  fre- 
quently in  a  crotch.  The  foundation  of  the  wildwood 


Yellow -Breasted  Chat.  167 

home  is  dried  leaves,  mostly  whole,  and  I  once  counted 
more  than  seventy-five  whole  elm  leaves  in  the  base  of  an 
ordinary  nest.  The  walls  are  formed  externally  of  dried 
weed  stems  and  rounded  up  internally  with  stems  and 
bark,  besides  leaves  and  other  materials  interwoven  into 
the  sides.  The  lining  is  generally  fine  wiry  grass  and  root- 
lets. An  ordinary  nest  is  about  four  and  a  half  inches  in 
external  diameter,  and  stands  about  three  and  a  half  inches 
high  in  position.  The  cavity  is  rather  less  than  three  inches 
across  the  top  and  about  two  inches  deep.  Some  nests 
are  made  lai-gely  of  long  pieces  of  creeping  plants,  the 
pieces  being  wound  around  the  nest  several  times.  A  set 
of  eggs  contains  either  three  or  four,  and  they  are  glossy 
or  pinkish  white,  irregularly  and  variously  spotted  or 
specked  with  bright  reddish  brown,  sometimes  with  spots 
larger  and  more  numerous  around  the  larger  end.  Davie 
gives  the  average  size  of  ten  specimens  as  .92  by  .71  of  an 
inch. 

The  chat  is  a  regular  victim  of  the  cowbird,  and  a  nest 
of  the  species  without  eggs  of  the  parasite  is  an  exception 
hereabouts.  The  chat  does  not  always  accept  the  impo- 
sition quietly,  however,  and  frequently  pierces  the  egg  of 
the  intruder  with  its  bill  and  tosses  it  out  of  the  nest  or 
else  deserts  the  home  it  has  begun.  Generally  it  accepts 
the  conditions  it  finds  in  its  home  after  an  unlucky 
absence,  and  broods  the  mixture  in  its  nest  as  jealously  as 
though  solely  its  own  product.  The  female  sits  on  her 
eggs  closely,  while  the  male  whistles  among  the  adjacent 
bushes  and  lower  branches  of  the  trees.  He  does  not  go 
beyond  the  limits  of  his  domains  to  deliver  his  eccentric- 
ities, but,  like  the  cardinal,  he  sings  his  best  at  home.  In- 
deed, some  of  his  most  varied  performances  are  inspired 
by  the  happiness  he  experiences  in  the  little  home  en- 
sconced among  the  subjacent  brambles.  Robert  Eidgway 
says:  "  During  the  height  of  the  breeding  season  the  male 
becomes  exceedingly  animated  and  tuneful,  ascending,  by 
short  flights  and  jumps,  from  branch  to  branch,  to  the  top 
of  a  small  tree,  singing  vociferously  all  the  while,  and 
then  launching  into  the  air,  dangling  its  legs,  and  flirting 
its  tail,  descends,  by  odd  jerks,  to  the  thicket." 

The  nest  of  the  chat  can  generally  be  discovered  by 


168  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

these  delirious  calls  and  ludicrous  motions  of  the  male,  for 
they  are  commonly  executed  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
his  home.  The  female  can  be  found  on  the  nest  in  most 
cases,  for  she  does  not  flit  from  her  charge  until  the  intru- 
der is  quite  near  it,  when  she  reveals  its  location  by  diving 
from  the  nest  into  the  adjacent  shrubbery.  When  thus 
startled  from  her  home  she  usually  goes  some  distance, 
but  quickly  returns  by  short  flights,  hopping  through  the 
bushes  and  keeping  concealed  most  of  the  time,  though 
venturing  into  the  open  spaces  often  enough  to  watch  the 
fate  of  her  household.  On  such  occasions  I  have  not 
heard  either  male  or  female  utter  any  kind  of  scolding 
note,  though  it  seems  natural  that  a  bird  with  the  exten- 
sive vocabulary  possessed  by  the  chat  should  have  some 
expression  for  its  alarm  and  anger. 

The  later  days  of  the  summer  residence  of  the  chat  are 
passed  in  silence  among  its  favorite  coverts.  It  skulks 
more  closely  in  the  bushy  thickets  than  before,  and  ap- 
pears to  have  lost  all  of  its  varied  musical  oddities,  rarely 
rising  as  in  former  days  above  the  summits  of  the  copses 
it  frequents.  Its  food  is  found  in  the  bushes  where  it 
resorts,  and  it  has  little  need  to  go  beyond  its  desirable 
retreats.  Like  most  of  the  warblers,  among  which  it  is 
grouped,  it  leaves  its  summer  home  early  in  September, 
joining  the  first  detachments  of  the  .vast  army  which 
throngs  the  tropical  regions  through  the  winter. 


V.— FRIENDS  OF  THE  HIGHWAY  AND 
DOOR-YARD. 


"  The  sun  is  bright,  the  air  is  clear, 

The  darting  swallows  soar  and  sing, 
And  from  the  stately  elms  I  hear 
The  bluebird  prophesying  Spring." 

-LONGFELLOW. 


THERE  is  evident  wisdom  in  the  custom  of  planting 
elms,  maples,  and  other  trees  along  the  streets  of  our  vil- 
lages and  cities,  and  of  adorning  our  dooryards  with  ever- 
greens and  other  shade  and  ornamental  trees.  It  has  had 
a  happy  effect  in  attracting  greater  numbers  of  the  birds 
which  choose  to  dwell  in  the  vicinity  of  civilization.  The 
avian  homes  in  the  tall  shade  trees  along  the  streets  are 
commonly  secure  from  the  depredations  of  crows,  squir- 
rels, owls,  snakes,  and  other  enemies,  which  render  the 
chances  of  successful  issue  so  few  when  the  nests  are  situ- 
ated in  forest  localities.  The  proximity  of  gardens  and 
fruit  trees  also  increases  the  supply  of  insect  food,  and 
lessens  the  burden  of  providing  for  several  hungry 
mouths.  There  is  additional  danger  to  the  fledgelings, 
however,  when  they  are  ready  to  leave  the  nest,  from  the 
stealthy  cats  and  proverbial  small  boys. 

On  the  whole,  there  has  been  a  sensible  increase  both 
in  the  species  and  the  individuals  which  live  in  towns  and 
suburban  localities.  The  rows  of  fine  hard  maples  in 
many  of  our  cities  have  attracted  the  wood  thrush,  one  of 
the  most  retiring  of  the  wildwood  species.  During  a  so- 
journ in  Carlinville,  Illinois,  in  the  month  of  June,  I  was 
daily  regaled  with  the  delightful  warbling  of  this  gifted 
songster;  and  on  one  occasion  I  saw  a  wood  thrush  sit- 
ting on  a  picket  fence  along  College  Avenue,  sweetly 

(169) 


170  Sketches  of  'Some  Common  Birds. 

tinkling  its  silver  bell,  while  a  woman  was  hanging  out 
her  washing  not  twenty  feet  from  the  apparently  in- 
different performer.  The  northeastern  quarter  of  the 
little  city  referred  to  has  been  transformed  into  the  sem- 
blance of  a  deeply-shaded  grove  by  the  trees  of  the  streets 
and  yards,  and  there  the  birds  are  heard  and  seen  in 
numbers,  living  and  brooding  undisturbed.  Vireos,  rose- 
breasted  grosbeaks,  and  other  species  are  as  noticeable  as 
in  their  wildwood  resorts,  and  an  ornithologist  who  wishes 
to  study  the  birds  in  urban  environments  will  find  them 
there  in  abundance.  It  is  well  known  that  the  crested 
flycatcher,  naturally  a  resident  of  the  densest  woods,  is 
not  averse  to  town  life,  and  is  gradually  increasing  in 
numbers  in  the  centers  of  civilization,  where  the  con- 
ditions are  favorable. 

Some  of  the  birds,  however,  have  ever  been  the  com- 
panions of  man,  and  whether  in  town  or  country,  have 
dwelt  in  our  dooryards  when  others  have  at  first  shunned 
our  presence.  There  are  several  species  which  even  in- 
different persons  know ;  for  the  very  familiarity  of  such 
birds  obtrudes  them  upon  our  notice,  whether  or  not  we 
care  for  them.  Who  can  remember  the  time  when  he  did 
not  know  the  robin,  or  the  catbird,  or  the  wren,  or  the 
bluebird?  They  seem  to  have  been  our  intimates  from 
our  earliest  years,  and  among  them  the  robin  is  certainly 
first  in  familiarity  and  prominence. 


THE   KOBIN. 

ik- 

,  The  robin  requires  no  formal  introduction  to  the  vast 
majority  of  American  boys  and  girls.  Throughout  north- 
ern and  eastern  North  America  his  early  arrival  after  the 
breaking  of  winter,  his  musical  morning  carols  and  loud 
evening  squeakings,  his  frequent  foraging  in  garden  and 
lawn,  his  entire  confidence  in  man,  as  shown  by  his  nest- 
ing almost  within  arm's  reach  of  the  door  or  window,  his 
royal  seizure  of  every  sort  of  ripening  fruit — all  serve  to 
bring  him  before  our  notice.  He  is  beyond  doubt  the 
best  known  and  the  most  typical  American  songster. 


The  Robin.  171 

While  many  of  the  singing  birds  become  silent  as  the 
cares  of  home  and  family  increase,  the  robin  is  one  of  the 
most  persistent  of  songsters,  beginning  the  day  with  a  carol 
before  sunrise  and  closing  with  a  chant  after  sunset,  from 
his  spring  appearance  to  his  late  autumn  departure.  He 
even  cheerily  sings  for  us  while  boldly  collecting  his  share 
of  the  garden  fruit,  evidently  believing  that  his  music  is 
a  fair  equivalent  for  his  luxurious  living,  and  that  hi& 
destruction  of  insect  pests  earlier  in  the  season  made  the 
fruit  a  reality.  The  robin  is  to  the  summer  what  the 
chickadee  is  to  the  year  round — the  ever-present  exponent 
of  cheerful  melody.  On  any  of  our  dreariest  rainy  morn- 
ings of  late  March  after  robin  has  come,  his  tuneful  carols 
more  than  compensate  the  bird  lover  for  venturing  beyond 
his  cozy  study  to  hear  the  "good  mornings"  of  his  inti- 
mates. 

As  migrants  the  robins  are  in  the  van  of  that  vast  army 
which  annually  travels  northward  at  the  appearance  of 
spring,  the  bluebirds  alone  sometimes  preceding  them.  I 
have  recorded  their  arrival  at  Virden,  Illinois,  as  early  as 
January  30,  1887,  and  as  late  as  February  26,  1892,  the 
advancement  of  the  season  and  the  locality  causing  the 
great  variation  in  the  dates  from  different  sections.  The 
robins  that  come  to  us  at  the  close  of  winter  seem  to  pre- 
fer the  tops  of  the  tall  elms  and  maples,  acting  as  if  they 
doubted  the  advisability  of  remaining.  We  usually  note 
them  first  in  the  morning  or  evening,  when  their  sharp, 
impatient,  nervous  squeaks  inform  us  that  the  first  robins 
have  come.  They  generally  utter  several  of  the  loud 
squeaks,  and  quickly  follow  them  by  two  or  three  similar 
notes  uttered  in  a  lower,  somewhat  muffled  tone,  pro- 
nounced more  under  the  breath  than  the  introductory 
squeaks.  Lowell  has  added  to  our  appreciation  of  the 
"doubting  bluebird's  notes,"  but  far  more  expressive  of 
doubt  are  the  actions  of  one  of  the  first  squeaking  robins 
who  finds  himself  separated  from  his  fellows  and  calls  to- 
them  from  the  leafless  summit  of  the  tall  elm  or  maple. 
Those  first  louder  exclamations  may  seem  to  indicate  his 
resolution  to  remain  even  alone,  in  the  face  of  the  purpled- 
black  snow-bank  crouching  over  the  western  horizon,  but 
those  muttered,  faltering  expressions  of  his  real  feelings 


172  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

immediately  betray  his  deep  alarm  at  his  situation  among 
such  uninviting  scenes.  As  the  days  pass,  however,  if 
the  bright  weather  continues,  the  first  arrivals  discover 
more  confidence;  others  come  among  us  with  their  brisk 
ways  and  nervous  chirps,  and  the  first  visitors  seem  to  be 
assured  that  all  is  right.  The  opening  week  of  their 
sojourn  seldom  passes  without  our  hearing  their  familiar 
trills  from  the  door-yard  elms  and  maples.  Toward 
nightfall  we  may  hear  their  sharp,  modulated  squeaking, 
and  see  them  coursing  swiftly  through  the  air  seeking 
resting  places  for  the  night. 

The  flight  of  the  robins  is  strong  and  business-like. 
They  seem  to  know  where  they  are  going,  and  iollow  an 
air-line  in  their  course  to  their  destination, swerving  swiftly 
to  either  side  to  avoid  obstructions  in  the  line  of  their 
flight.  Like  all  other  strong-flying  birds,  they  use  the 
tail  to  wonderful  advantage  in  guiding  their  movements 
and  in  alighting.  A  noticeable  feature  of  the  tail  is  the 
white  spot  on  either  side,  at  the  extremity  of  the  outer 
feather;  and  when  they  spread  their  tails  to  rise  from  the 
ground  in  flight,  these  markings  are  always  revealed.  If 
they  are  to  fly  only  a  short  distance,  they  will  probably 
keep  the  tail  spread  to  assist  them  in  stopping,  and  the 
white  marks  will  be  seen  during  their  movements. 

Soon  after  the  males  have  settled  among  us,  the  females 
arrive,  and  later  the  jealous  tilts  of  the  rival  robins  are 
frequent  occurrences.  It  is  common  to  see  one  male  jeal- 
ously pursuing  another  in  and  out  of  the  foliage  and 
around  the  bushes  of  the  lawn  or  garden.  .Frequently 
there  are  three  robins  in  the  group,  generally  one  female 
and  two  males,  who  are  ardently  seeking  her  favor,  and 
are  correspondingly  jealous  of  the  presence  of  the  other. 
One  spring  when  I  was  walking  along  a  railroad  beside 
the  public  park  of  my  native  village,  two  robins  swept 
into  view  from  a  neighboring  garden,  one  in  fierce  and 
blind  pursuit  of  the  other.  In  attempting  to  cross  the 
track  ahead  of  me,  both  struck  the  end  of  a  tie  and  both 
dropped  disabled  upon  the  ground,  where  they  lay  until 
I  reached  the  spot  and  picked  them  up,  when  they  slowly 
revived  and  fluttered  heavily  away.  These  jealous  con- 
flicts are  accompanied  by  loud  squeakings  uttered  in  shrill, 


The  Robin.  173 

angry  tones,  and  the  encounters  are  no  doubt  very  excit- 
ing to  the  participants. 

In  his  dealings  with  his  neighbors,  the  robin  is  not 
always  inclined  toward  peace,  especially  when  he  happens 
to  live  near  a  family  of  grackles.  If  a  blundering  grackle 
chances  to  cross  the  limits  of  his  neighbor's  territory, 
Kobin  is  after  him.  with  ready  bill  and  angry  squeak,  and 
it  is  likely  that  the  intruder  will  retreat  without  remain- 
ing to  give  battle.  Another  undesirable  visitor  to  the 
claimed  premises  of  the  robin  is  the  blue  jay,  and  though 
he  may  saunter  into  the  vicinity  of  the  nest  innocent  of 
trespass,  or  may  be  going  honestly  about  his  business,  he 
is  indignantly  ordered  to  leave  the  premises,  and  is  usually 
ejected  at  once.  This  manifestation  of  ill-temper  is  only 
the  result  of  the  robin's  jealous  care  for  his  home  and 
family.  Most  of  the  birds,  which  ordinarily  seem  ami- 
able and  winsome,  are  easily  ruffled  by  the  approach  of 
even  a  harmless  neighbor  into  the  vicinity  of  their  homes. 

Eobins  begin  to  nest  even  before  the  stout  crotches 
which  hold  their  adobe  dwellings  are  tinged  with  the 
green  of  the  budding  garniture.  Many  a  brood  of  young 
robins  is  cradled  in.  most  cheerless  surroundings.  But 
even  when  the  ill-timed  snows  of  early  April  flutter  upon 
the  head  and  back  of  the  devoted  mother  birds,  they 
merely  tuck  their  ruddy  feather  coverlets  more  cozily 
about  their  treasures  and  nestle  more  closely  behind  the 
impervious  walls  of  their  earthen  homes.  Have  the  robins 
been  taught  by  experience  that  grassy  walls  alone  form 
imperfect  shelter  from  the  chill  winds  of  early  April? 
Have  they  learned  that  their  plebeian  cottages,  perhaps 
objects  of  scorn  and  ridicule  to  Sir  Baltimore  and  Madam 
Vireo,are  the  best  sort  of  dwellings  for  their  March  and 
April  establishments?  It  may  be  possible  that  those  who 
are  disposed  to  sneer  at  the  humble  mud  cots  of  the  other- 
wise well-to-do  robins  may  have  the  worst  of  the  argu- 
ment after  all.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  robins  are  too  sen- 
sible to  be  laughed  out  of  the  style  of  architecture  sanc- 
tioned by  their  better  judgment,  and  so  they  are  still 
industriously  plastering  the  walls  of  their  habitations — 
wise  builders  that  they  are. 

The  first  nests  are  usually  made  soon  after  the  first  of 


174  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

April.  In  1883  I  remarked  a  pair  of  robins  at  work 
founding  a  home  in  a  large  maple  in  town,  as  early 
as  March  19th.  The  two  following  days  brought  rain  and 
sleet,  and  the  work  was  interrupted.  On  the  22d,  which 
was  clear  and  warm,  they  resumed  operations.  By  the 
26th  the  nest  was  finished  and  the  female  had  commenced 
laying,  having  spent  the  two  preceding  days  in  the  nest. 
On  March  28th  I  climbed  to  the  nest,  which  was  set  in  a 
crotch  in  the  main  trunk  about  twenty  feet  from  the 
ground.  I  found  in  the  nest  four  eggs.  No  other  robins 
were  building  in  the  neighborhood,  nor  did  nidification 
begin  with  others  that  year  thereabout  until  April  5th. 
Ordinarily  the  nest  is  situated  on  a  horizontal  branch 
where  forking  boughs  furnish  a  base  of  support,  or  it  is 
set  in  an  upright  crotch  at  varying  distances  from  the 
ground.  I  have  found  nests  in  osage  orange  hedges  below 
three  feet  from  the  ground,  needlessly  exposed  to  the  visits 
of  snakes  and  mice.  Occasionally  I  find  a  nest  made  upon 
the  end  of  a  rail  outside  the  angle  of  a  worm  fence,  pro- 
tected by  a  rail  behind  and  another  rail  above  the  nest. 

The  foundation  of  the  nest  consists  of  dried  grass,  with 
which  are  often  mingled  rags,  and  string  either  loosely 
bunched  or  wound  among  the  parts  of  the  foundation  or 
hanging  from  some  part  of  the  nest.  Upon  this  the  mud 
walls  are  raised,  made  about  one-fourth  of  an  inch  thick, 
with  more  or  less  dried  grass  upon  their  exterior  surface. 
The  smooth  bottom  of  the  nest  contains  a  scant  bedding 
of  the  same  grassy  material.  Both  birds  work  at  the 
structure.  The  female,  however,  carries  most  of  the 
heavier  materials  and  personally  attends  to  the  disposition 
of  all  the  various  fabrics  worked  into  the  structure.  The 
male  aids  by  fetching  a  few  lighter  bundles  and  singing 
his  cheery  carols.  The  walls  are  carefully  rounded  up  by 
the  female,  who  moulds  them  smoothly  with  her  breast. 
If  the  bird  lover  is  fortunate  enough  to  see  her  using  her 
faded  red  apron  as  a  trowel,  he  can  understand  why  she 
wears  a  dress  less  showy  than  her  mate.  Is  she  not  sen- 
sible in  thus  donning  her  ruddy  apron  as  she  plies  her 
plasterer's  art?  Having  disposed  of  her  bill-full  of  mud 
upon  the  wall  in  the  desired  place,  she  drops  upon  her 
knees  on  the  floor  of  her  hovel,  and  moving  her  breast 


The  Robin.  175 

from  side  to  side,  gently  forms  the  rising  walls  to  fit  her 
shapely  body. 

The  usual  number  of  eggs  laid  is  four.  I  never  found 
even  five  in  a  complement,  though  some  observers  report 
occasional  sets  of  six.  The  normal  coloring  of  the  eggs  is 
a  uniform  light  greenish  blue.  Davie  says  that  their  av- 
erage size  is  1.16  by  .80  of  an  inch. 

The  robins  are  among  the  heralds  of  the  day.  They 
open  the  daily  festival  of  bird  music  with  a  grand  concert 
at  dawn.  Their  earliest  notes  form  a  soft  musical 
twitter.  This  is  followed  by  a  loud,  joyous  choral,  whose 
effect  is  increased  by  an  accompaniment  from  the  other 
early  vocalists.  Before  sunrise  the  robins  cease  their 
warbling,  and  they  remain  quiet  until  the  sun  has  ap- 
peared above  the  horizon,  when  they  again  pour  forth 
their  notes,  continuing  at  intervals  throughout  the  day. 
Few  bird  biographers  have  referred  to  the  varied  vocabu- 
lary at  the  command  of  the  robins.  They  can  squeak  in 
all  the  different  keys,  seeming  to  have  perfect  mastery  of 
all  sharps  and  flats  (though  they  squeak  mostly  in  sharps). 
They  have  a  measure  of  shrill  chirps  which  they  use  as 
interludes  to  their  commonest  songs.  The  aforesaid  chirps 
are  uttered  in  a  ventriloquial  manner,  so  that  they  seem 
to  issue  from  a  more  remote  performer.  The  double -toned 
squeaking  of  the  robins  has  been  described,  and  these  utter- 
ances are  almost  as  common  as  their  characteristic  trills. 

But  the  charming  feature  of  robin  music  is  its  delight- 
ful uncertainty  as  to  its  modulation.  The  robins  have  no 
recitatives — 

"The  same  old  traditional  notes," 

but  they  utter  the  passing  emotions  of  their  breasts  with 
remarkable  power  of  improvisation.  At  times  they  are 
inclined  to  be  contemplative,  and  then  their  tender, 
softened  trills  scarcely  carry  their  dreamy  expression  to 
the  ear  of  the  attentive  listener.  Again  as  the  performers 
sit  in  the  inspiration  of  the  warm  sunshine,  "  o'errun  with 
the  deluge  of  summer,"  the  clear  ringing  carols  are  voice- 
ful  expressions  of  the  true  happiness  which  springs  from 
content. 

.Late  in  the  fall  the  robins  leave  their  summer  resorts 
in  the  door-yards  and  gardens,  and  forming  into  small 


176  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

flocks,  become  shy  and  retired,  inhabiting  the  woods 
where  they  can  feed  on  the  wild  grapes  and  berries. 
Lowell's  lines, 

"  The  sobered  robin,  hunger  silent  now, 
Seeks  cedar-berries  blue,  his  autumn  cheer," 

contain  a  rhythmic  characterization  of  the  fall  'mood  of 
our  friends  of  the  door-yard,  now  transformed  into  taciturn 
woodsmen.  On  the  bright  mornings  of  September  or 
October  they  can  be  seen  about  sunrise  darting  swiftly 
into  the  trees  laden  with  vines,  or  flitting  away  after  they 
have  eaten  their  fill  of  the  clustering  grapes.  In  the  dark 
woods  they  flit  here  and  there  from  one's  presence  as  they 
are  disturbed  in  their  repasts.  Few  trills  and  warblings 
are  heard  at  this  season,  but  chiefly  the  squeakings  and 
calls  of  alarm,  and  thus  they  live  until  the  changing 
weather  advises  them  to  seek  more  cheerful  quarters. 
When  they  reappear  in  the  woods  at  the  close  of  winter 
or  on  the  first  evidences  of  the  approach  of  spring,  how- 
ever, as  they  usually  do  before  they  appear  in  the  towns 
and  gardens,  they  are  in  full  song. 

The  majority  of  these  birds  journey  in  small  flocks 
southward  from  central  Illinois  in  the  first  two  weeks  of 
October.  Observers  in  many  localities,  however,  note 
their  residence  through  the  winter,  or  at  least  until  very 
late  in  the  season.  Where  there  are  sheltered  neighbor- 
hoods, such  as  bushy  swamps  with  open  areas  of  water, 
or  thick  woods  supplied  with  berries,  robins  will  congre- 
gate in  great  numbers  to  feed  on  the  clustering  fruit. 
They  are  particularly  fond  of  the  bright  red  berries  of  the 
mountain  ash  of  the  northeastern  forests,  and  vast  flocks 
of  robins  delay  their  migration  until  the  supply  of  berries 
is  exhausted.  Even  in  .Nova  Scotia  observers  report  that 
several  robins  remain  all  winter  in  a  given  neighborhood. 
Robins  wintering  near  the  seashore  make  excursions  to 
the  coast  on  sunny  days  at  ebb  tide  to  search  for  small 
marine  invertebrates  for  food., 

In  the  southern  winter  quarters  of  the  robins,  they 
congregate  in  the  swamps  and  denser  forests  where  sup- 
plies of  berries  and  other  eatables  are  to  be  found.  There 
their  voracity  seems  to  be  boundless.  Frequently  indi- 
viduals become  so  gorged  with  berries  and  so  stupefied  by 


The  Robin.  177 

the  juices  that  they  are  unable  to  fly  and  even  fall  helpless 
for  a  time.  The  berries  of  the  china  tree  particularly  are 
said  to  have  such  an  intoxicating  effect  upon  the  birds. 

The  food  of  the  robin,  in  view  of  its  long  stay  among  us 
and  its  abundance  in  our  gardens  and  orchards,  is  a  most 
important  subject  for  the  consideration  of  every  horti- 
culturist and  agriculturist.  In  early  spring  the  robin  is 
the  horticulturist's  most  valuable  ally,  feeding  on  the  vo- 
racious larval  enemies  of  young  vegetation,  and  thus  af- 
fording opportunity  for  the  expanding  buds  to  shoot  be- 
yond danger  of  the  ravages  of  destructive  insects.  Yet, 
withal,  the  robin  is  somewhat  fond  of  insects  which  in 
turn  prey  upon  the  insect  foes  of  the  gardener  and 
farmer.  From  the  beginning  of  the  fruit  season,  how- 
ever, it  takes  ample  compensation  for  the  services  already 
rendered,  feeding  successively  on  the  ripening  straw- 
berries, currants,  cherries,  raspberries,  pears,  apples,  and 
even  peaches  and  grapes.  It  is  especially  destructive  in 
the  pear  tree.  Being  unable  to  carry  away  the  fruit,  it 
takes  a  mouthful  from  one  pear  and  then  from  others, 
thus  spoiling  much  of  the  luscious  yield  of  a  tree.  Its 
fall  diet  consists  of  late  fruits  and  berries,  with  a  larger 
proportion  of  insects  than  in  the  earlier  fruit  season.  The 
nestlings  of  the  first  brood  are  fed  mostly  on  insect  food 
while  in  the  nest  and  afterwards,  until  the  fruits  offer  a 
more  luxurious  diet.  Later  broods  are  fed  almost  ex- 
clusively on  soft  fruits  after  the  first  few  days  of  nest  life. 

Early  one  spring  it  was  my  fortune  to  visit  the  woods 
on  a  bright  morning  before  the  robins  had  been  seen  in 
numbers  in  town,  and  there  I  found  hundreds  of  robins 
mingling  their  voices  in  continuous  chorus.  They  flitted 
joyfully  about  in  the  gloomy  shades,  feeding  bountifully 
on  the  berries  which  the  freezing  weather  had  preserved 
through  the  winter.  Though  a  heavy  squall  of  snow 
transformed  the  brightness  of  the  morning  into  the  drear- 
iness of  a  winter  afternoon,  their  cheery  trills  continued 
as  loudly  and  as  merrily  as  before.  Indeed,  the  robins 
seldom  have  the  "blues,"  for  whether  the  weather  be 
bright  or  dreary,  they  sing  cheerily  a-perch  in  the  elms 
and  maples,  sometimes  amid  beating  rain,  and  even  in  the 
driving  sleet. 
12 


178  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

In  the  late  summer  the  most  of  the  songs  begin  bravely, 
but  falter  after  several  measures,  as  though  the  performers 
lost  spirit  before  they  finished  their  songs.  I  have  imag- 
ined that  these  late  performances  were  the  efforts  of  the 
young  males  learning  to  sing,  for  they  reminded  me  of 
the  strains  of  a  novice  on  the  cornet  who  has  not  yet  ac- 
quired a  "lip."  The  defects  are  strikingly  noticeable  if 
the  fuller,  stronger  song  of  an  old  male  is  heard  at  the 
same  time.  However,  birds  are  like  human  beings  in 
their  varying  ability  to  sing,  and  we  should  not  expect  the 
same  finished  execution  of  song  from  every  soloist.  These 
faltering  measures,  instead  of  being  the  attempts  of  young- 
sters, may  be  only  the  best  performances  of  older  unskill- 
ful musicians. 

I  can  not  conclude  this  rambling  sketch  of  our  door-yard 
friend  without  further  mention  of  the  nervous,  faltering 
carols  of  even  the  best  robin  musicians.  The  most  per- 
sistent of  the  avian  songsters  repeat  their  lays  after  short 
intervals,  as  though  they  would  rest  their  vocal  organs 
after  each  ditty.  The  chipping  sparrow,  the  indigo  bunt- 
ing, the  rose-breasted  grosbeak,  the  warbling  vireo,  and 
in  fact  all  other  virtuosos,  are  thus  enabled  to  trill  hour 
after  hour  through  the  day.  The  robin,  however,  seems 
to  have  revised  the  old  couplet  to  read — 

"  Work  when  you  work,  and  sing  when  you  sing" 

for  in  his  nervous  execution  he  begins  to  repeat  trill  after 
trill,  scarcely  stopping  to  take  breath,  until  in  a  short 
time  he  falters  from  lack  of  further  force,  even  breaking 
down  in  the  middle  of  his  carol.  Eesting  a  few  moments, 
he  vigorously  resumes  his  rehearsal,  as  rapidly  and  as 
nervously  as  before,  only  to  falter  in  the  lavish  prodi- 
gality of  his  lung  power.  His  spontaneity  of  song  will  . 
not  be  repressed  into  the  regular  cadences  of  the  more ' 
artistic  performers,  but  it  rather  wells  up  from  a  gushing 
reservoir  which  can  not  withhold  its  flow  until  its  level 
has  been  reduced,  sending  forth  at  first  a  strong,  steady 
stream,  but  soon  diminishing  until  it  expends  itself  in 
feeble  drops. 


YOUNG    CATBIRDS. 
From  life.    Afte>  Shufelti, . 


Catbird.  179 


CATBIRD. 

Though  ranking  with  the  bluebird,  robin,  and  house 
wren  in  familiarity,  the  catbird  falls  far  below  them  in 
the  list  of  general  favorites.  However,  it  has  much  to 
recommend  it  to  public  favor.  Its  figure  is  trim  and  ele- 
gant, its  movements  are  agile  and  graceful,  its  song  is 
sweet  and  modulated,  and  its  manners,  though  at  times 
familiar  and  not  strictly  moral  from  our  point  of  view, 
are  modest  and  confident.  Yet  withal,  its  noiseless,  almost 
sneaking  manner  of  flight,  and  its  harsh  cat-cry,  have 
produced  popular  prejudice  against  it,  which  all  of  its 
more  amiable  traits  have  failed  to  overcome.  John  Bur- 
roughs says,  "  That  feline  mew  of  hers,  and  that  flirting, 
flexible  tail,  suggest  something  not  entirely  bird-like." 

Thus  the  catbird  seems  to  be  the  victim  of  a  well-estab- 
lished prejudice,  not  only  among  men,  but  also  among  its 
feathered  companions.  Its  arrival  into  a  group  of  song- 
sters of  other  species  silences  their  music  and  causes  their 
departure  one  by  one  from  the  spot.  It  seems  to  have 
taken  the  hint,  and  usually  avoids  the  snubs  of  other 
birds  by  keeping  aloof  from  them  whenever  possible 
without  going  directly  out  of  its  way.  When  it  chooses 
to  feed  on  the  wild  grapes  and  the  berries  of  the  Virginia 
creeper,  with  which  our  undisturbed  forests  are  laden,  it 
selects  a  time  when  other  birds  are  not  feeding  on  them, 
or  a  vine  where  they  are  not  congregated.  Its  life  is  more 
or  less  independent  of  bird  society,  yet  it  lives  well  and 
appears  to  pursue  its  way  with  quiet  indifference  to  what 
its  neighbors  think  or  say  of  it. 

The  habitat  of  the  catbird  is  eastern  North  America  to 
the  western  base  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  ranging  north- 
wardly to  latitude  54°.  It  is  resident  in  the  Southern 
States.  The  winter  quarters  of  our  Northern  catbird  are 
around  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  south  to  the  Isthmus  of 
Panama.  It  is  recorded  as  breeding  throughout  its  range. 

As  migrants  the  catbirds  are  rather  late  in  their  arrival 
in  this  region,  being  seldom  seen  here  (39°  20')  before 
April  24th,  and  averaging  even  later.  Robert  Ridgway 
notes  their  appearance  at  Mt.  Carmel,  Illinois,  April  18th 


180  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

to  24th,  the  earliest  and  latest  dates  for  the  years  1863-'66, 
inclusive.  After  their  arrival,  their  songs  can  be  heard 
regularly  from  their  chosen  resorts, their  preference  being 
thickets  of  dwarf  trees  and  shrubbery.  They  have  no 
decided  liking  for  the  woods,  away  from  human  habita- 
tions ;  but  with  an  easy  confidence,  they  are  at  home  in 
the  gardens,  orchards,  and  door-yard  bushes,  as  well  as 
among  the  wild  woodland  bushes  and  swamps.  I  knew  a 
pair  to  fix  their  home  in  the  top  of  a  large  spreading  lilac 
bush  overhanging  the  sidewalk  of  a  busy  thoroughfare, 
there  constructing  their  habitation  and  caring  for  it  and 
their  brood  almost  within  reach  of  many  who  passed  it 
daily  from  early  m  orning  till  late  at  night. 

Like  the  robin,  t  he  catbird  does  not  reserve  its  music 
for  occasions  only  when  other  songsters  are  filling  the 
morning  air  with  melody.  In  warm  summer  afternoons, 
when  perchance  you  are  sitting  on  the  shady  bank  of 
some  lazy  stream,  listening  to  the  tireless  cadenzas  of  a 
song  sparrow  among  the  dry  branches  of  a  fallen  tree,  a 
dark-gray  form  may  flit  out  from  the  adjacent  shrubbery 
and  alight  among  the  branches  of  the  tree  containing  the 
melodious  sparrow.  The  first  performer  ceases  his  ditty, 
and  presently  flies  with  undulating  movement  farther 
down  the  stream.  The  newcomer,  after  several  harsh 
calls,  begins  a  sweetly  modulated  medley,  executing  with 
quiet  ease  occasional  brilliant  strains,  now  raising  his 
voice  in  a  series  of  ringing  notes  and  imitations,  and  then 
uttering  notes  scarcely  audible,  yet  sweet  and  touching. 
This  gentle,  subdued  singing  or  talking  is  quite  charac- 
teristic of  the  catbird  as  well  as  some  other  songsters. 
When  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak  is  observed  in  the  execu- 
tion of  its  loudly  mellow  song,  it  will  frequently  lower  its 
voice  and  continue  its  melody  in  a  strain  as  soft  and 
sweet  as  the  last  faint  lullabies  of  the  mother  to  her  babe 
just  quieted  in  sleep.  The  warbling  vireo  has  the  same 
habit,  as  well  as  the  brown  thrasher  in  the  later  portion 
of  the  nesting  season.  The  catbird,  however,  often  falls 
into  this  retrospective,  sympathetic  mood  early  in  the 
season.  In  the  summer,  long  after  many  of  the  other  birds 
have  become  noticeably  silent,  the  soft  melody  of  the  cat- 
bird will  come  to  your  ears,  if  you  have  approached  quite 


Catbird.  181 

near  his  quarters  undetected;  and  you  will  stop  to  listen 
with  wondering  ears  as  you  peer  among  the  tangled 
bushes  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  virtuoso,  who  is  ap- 
parently practicing  for  a  public  effort  in  the  future.  You 
will  not  be  caused  to  wait  and  look  long,  however,  before 
the  performer  himself  will  glide  into  view. 

The  sweet  notes  of  this  accomplished  musician  are  heard 
not  only  throughout  the  day,  but  frequently  the  overflow- 
ing melody  of  some  individual  will  cause  it  to  sing  late  in 
the  night.  During  the  first  week  of  May,  1896,  while 
camping  near  the  Illinois  River,  my  restless  ears  at  mid- 
night caught  the  rich  strains  of  a  catbird  rising  from  a 
point  across  the  river,  forming  the  leading  part  in  a  med- 
ley furnished  by  the  whip-poor-will,  yellow-breasted  chat, 
wood  pewee,  and  other  love-lorn  troubadours. 

A  striking  element  in  the  song  of  the  catbird  is  its  un- 
certain continuity.  On  a  lazy  summer  morning  or  after- 
noon, while  you  are  swinging  in  your  hammock  in  some 
shady  nook,  the  dreamy  lyrics  of  a  catbird  in  an  adjacent 
lilac  will  arise,  and  you  congratulate  yourself  that  you  are 
about  to  be  entertained  by  a  recital  of  choice  melody.  To 
your  disappointment,  the  music  ceases  abruptly  after  sev- 
eral introductory  notes.  The  musician  was  only  "tuning 
up,"  perhaps  you  imagine,  for  soon  he  begins  again.  This 
time  he  may  get  well  along  arid  have  gained  your  rapt 
attention,  when  again,  in  the  very  midst  of  a  delicious 
measure,  the  melodious  flow  suddenly  ends,  and  the  char- 
acteristic cat  cry  erases  much  of  the  pleasant  impression 
made  by  the  unfinished  song. 

In  many  localities  the  catbird  is  known  as  the  "  gray 
mocking-bird."  It  does  frequently  attempt  to  imitate  the 
notes  and  cries  of  certain  animals,  yet  it  is  an  indifferent 
mimic,  the  harsh  imitations  it  produces  usually  being  only 
inharmonious  contrasts  to  its  own  choicer  melody.  Robert 
Ridgway  says  of  the  catbird  :  "He  at  times  gets  tired  of 
his  own  voice,  and  substitutes  other  sounds  which  he  has 
heard.  These  he  imitates  with  tolerable  success;  but  the 
sounds  which  he  most  affects,  as  the  squeal  of  a  young 
pig,  the  squeaking  of  a  hinge,  or  the  squall  of  a  cat,  are 
harsh  interpolations  of  a  song  which  might  otherwise  be 
pleasing."  „ 


182  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

For  nesting  places  the  catbird  is  partial  to  wild  goose- 
berry and  blackberry  bushes,  either  isolated  or  in  thickets. 
A  thorny  bush  growing  in  a  hedgerow  is  a  most  tempting 
site  for  its  home.  Dwarf  trees  and  low  climbing,  cluster- 
ing vines  furnish  well-hidden  retreats;  and  orchard 
trees,  with  hedges  usually  surrounding  such  places,  con- 
tain many  tempting  nooks  for  rearing  feathered  families. 
The  nest  is  commonly  set  in  a  crotch,  or  where  contiguous 
twigs  afford  a  firm  support.  It  is  placed  from  two  to 
eight  feet  from  the  ground.  The  structure  is  formed  of 
dried  hedge  or  other  thorny  twigs,  stems  of  weeds  and 
grasses,  dried  leaves,  and  strips  of  bark  and  husks,  with  a 
lining  of  dried  rootlets.  The  eggs  number  four  or  five, 
four  being  the  ordinary  complement.  They  are  unspotted 
bluish-green  or  greenish-blue,  and  average  .95  by  .70  of 
an  inch.  Probably  two  broods  are  reared  in  many  in- 
stances each  summer  in  this  region. 

After  carefully  examiningthe  animal  and  vegetable  ele- 
ments of  the  food  of  the  catbird  in  detail,  Prof.  Forbes  sum- 
marizes the  value  of  the  species  as  follows :  "  Remembering 
that  the  chief  economical  service  of  the  robin  is  done  before 
and  after  the  midsummer  wealth  of  fruits  tempts  it  from 
the  chase  of  insects,  we  find  it  not  unreasonable  that  the 
catbird,  coming  later  and  departing  earlier,  scarcely  an- 
ticipating the  garden  fruits  in  its  arrival,  and  disappearing 
when  the  vineyards  and  orchards  are  at  their  best,  should 
be  a  much  less  useful  bird  than  its  companion.  The  credit 
I  have  given  it  must  be  still  further  reduced  because  of  its 
serious  depredations  in  the  apple  orchard.  I  have  often 
seen  it  busily  scooping  out  the  fairest  side  of  the  ripest 
early  apples,  unsurpassed  in  skill  and  industry  at  this  em- 
ployment by  the  red-headed  woodpecker  or  the  blue  jay." 
(Bull.  No.  3,  111.  State  Lab.  Nat.  Hist.,  Nov.  1880.) 

Some  observers  report  that  the  catbird  has  a  relish  for 
the  eggs  of  other  birds,  and  that  while  it  does  not  sys- 
tematically harry  the  nests  of  its  neighbors,  it  often  steals 
into  the  homes  of  owners  temporarily  absent  and  devours 
the  eggs.  John  Burroughs  states  that  he  has  seen  the  cat- 
bird in  the  act  of  devouring  the  eggs  of  the  least  fly- 
catcher. Upon  this  matter  I  have  no  personal  knowledge. 
However,  I  have  often  watched  the  catbird  closely  when. 


Catbird.  183 

I  knew  it  to  be  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  nest  of 
another  species — in  fact,  when  it  was  in  the  same  bush 
tenanted  by  a  weaker  neighbor — but  I  have  never  been 
able  to  detect  it  in  any  cannibalistic  operations.  Locality 
may  cause  it  to  vary  its  habits  in  this  matter,  as  it 
frequently  causes  the  habits  of  birds  to  vary  in  other  par- 
ticulars. I  am  willing  to  rest  the  case  upon  the  evidence 
of  so  accurate  an  observer  as  Mr.  Burroughs.  The  bird 
has  a  suspicious  manner  at  best,  and  its  conduct  upon 
favorable  occasions  should  be  carefully  watched. 

As  the  catbird  is  tardy  in  appearing  among  us  in  the 
spring  migration,  so  it  is  hasty  in  taking  its  departure  in 
the  fall,  it  being  seen  here  rarely  after  the  second  week  in 
October.  In  1893  it  was  last  noted  here  on  October  12th. 
During  the  last  month  of  its  sojourn  it  skulks  with  silent 
wariness  and  evident  laziness  closely  among  the  shrub- 
bery in  the  vicinity  of  its  food,  which  consists  at  this 
season  largely  of  wild  grapes,  "  pokeberries,"  and  berries 
of  the  Virginia  creeper.  In  the  late  season  it  is  active 
only  in  the  early  and  late  hours  of  the  day.  In  fact, 
most  birds  can  be  observed  toward  the  close  of  the  season 
only  at  their  feeding  grounds  and  in  the  early  morning. 
Two  hours  of  observation  immediately  after  dawn  are 
more  productive  to  the  student  of  bird-life  in  the  fall  than 
all  the  other  hours  of  the  day. 

On  the  first  day  of  August  a  pair  of  catbirds  led  their 
brood  from  a  nest  in  the  shrubbery  in  my  garden.  My 
attention  was  called  to  the  family  by  the  hungry,  im- 
patient chirps  of  the  younglings,  and  the  low,  gentle 
"quoot"  of  the  parents.  They  made  their  regular  head- 
quarters in  two  adjacent  plum  trees,  and  I  admired  the 
evident  wisdom  of  the  elders  in  thus  choosing  quarters  so 
advantageous.  The  trees  were  flanked  on  one  side  by  an 
arbor  heavily  laden  with  grapes,  and  on  another  by  a 
patch  of  elderberry  bushes,  whose  long,  slender  branches 
were  drooping  with  the  weight  of  the  black-red  clusters. 
In  another  direction  was  a  garden  somewhat  neglected, 
from  which  the  birds  could  draw  the  supplies  they  de- 
sired; while  the  remaining  side  was  inclosed  by  a  tight 
fence,  against  which  both  parents  and  offspring  could  sit 
and  preen  their  feathers  after  their  bath  in  the  margin  of 


184  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

the  reservoir  across  the  street.  The  stringer  of  the  fence 
was  a  famous  place  for  the  youngsters  to  sun  themselves. 
Eegardless  of  the  fact  that  I  was  an  interested  observer  of 
their  movements,  they  would  crouch  upon  the  joist  in 
negligent  fluffiness,  or  run  along  the  joist  for  several  feet, 
and  then  turn  to  retrace  their  path,  or  perhaps  stop  to 
clean  their  plumage.  In  their  evident  pleasure  in  basking 
in  the  sunshine  and  their  indolent  life,  consisting  thus 
solely  of  eating,  bathing,  and  sunning,  with  social  con- 
verse with  their  companions,  I  came  to  believe  that  the 
catbird  is  a  modern  type  of  the  voluptuous  Athenian  of 
the  Golden  Age.  All  through  August  and  early  Septem- 
ber the  family  remained  in  this  chosen  nursery,  the 
youngsters  being  reared  in  elegant  ease,  and  passing  their 
time  lounging  on  the  fence,  or  sitting  in  the  thick  shade 
of  the  foliage.  There  comes  into  my  mind  the  hazy 
recollection  of  having  read  from  one  of  the  English  essay- 
ists (was  it  the  quaint  Charles  Lamb?)  that  if  he  were 
blessed  with  a  son,  he  would  wish  to  rear  him  with  the 
understanding  that  he  had  nothing  to  do  except  leisurely 
to  acquire  all  the  culture  that  circumstances  might  bring 
to  him.  I  am  impelled  to  remark  that  the  catbirds  evi- 
dently have  the  same  Grecian  idea  of  rearing  their  off- 
spring. The  product  is  the  versatile,  well  bred  loungers 
of  our  dooryard  bushes,  perfectly  indifferent  concerning 
their  reception  into  avian  society,  at  home  wherever  cir- 
cumstances invite  them — easy,  elegant,  Epicurean — Greeks 
among  Barbarians. 


BALTIMOEE    OEIOLE. 

Among  the  well-known  and  splendid  species  which  com- 
bine to  give  the  family  Icteridce  a  proud  position  in  our 
avian  fauna,  none  surpasses  the  Baltimore  oriole  in 
brilliancy  of  plumage,  richness  of  song,  or  vivacity  of 
manners.  Belonging  to  a  company  of  eminent  vocalists, 
the  Baltimore  oriole  unquestionably  is  the  leader  in  ex- 
pression and  power.  In  a  group  of  famous  architects  and 
builders,  he  is  by  far  the  most  intelligent  architect  and 
the  most  skillful  builder.  Classed  in  a  family  noted  for 


Baltimore   Oriole.  185 

bold  colors  and  showy  plumage,  he  alone  deserves  the 
epithets  of  "golden  robin"  and  "firebird."  The  colonists 
of  the  middle  and  southern  seaboard  early  were  attracted 
by  his  glowing  colors,  mellow  notes,  and  ingenious  archi- 
tecture; and  they  followed  the  christening  of  the  bird  by 
Linnaeus  in  calling  it  the  Baltimore  Bird,  from  the  simi- 
larity of  its  orange  and  black  suit  to  the  livery  of  Lord 
Baltimore,  the  patron  of  the  Maryland  colony.  Steadily 
growing  in  favor,  the  Baltimore  oriole  soon  became  re- 
nowned for  beauty,  melody,  and  animation,  making  its 
way  into  our  literature  with  the  bobolink  and  other  gifted 
species.  Unlike  some  other  birds  equally  gifted  with 
ornate  plumage  and  mellow  voice,  it  dwelt  among  the 
trees  which  shaded  the  dooryards  of  the  settlers  of  the 
New  World;  and  its  rich  plaint  and  vivacious  manners 
soon  made  it  a  welcome  resident  in  the  little  area  about 
the  colonist's  habitation. 

The  Baltimore  oriole  has  an  extensive  range,  being 
found  in  all  United  States  and  British  Provinces  west- 
ward to  the  Eocky  Mountains,  breeding  throughout.  It 
winters  in  Cuba,  Mexico,  Central  America,  and  adjacent 
regions.  No  other  bird  is  more  regular  in  its  appearance 
on  the  spring  migration.  Eobert  Eidgway  notes  its  ar- 
rival at  Mt.  Carmel,  Illinois,  in  the  years  1863-66  in- 
clusive, on  April  19-22.  In  central  Illinois  (39°  20')  it 
appeared  in  1881  on  April  24th;  in  1882,  on  April  22nd; 
and  in  1883,  on  April  28th. 

From  the  first  day  of  its  arrival  its  clear  mellow  notes 
float  down  almost  incessantly  from  the  elms  and  maples 
shading  our  dooryards.  It  usually  arrives  in  the  night 
and  announces  its  presence  at  early  dawn  on  the  follow- 
ing morning  in  sweet,  ringing  tones,  as  it  unconcernedly 
examines  the  tender  leaves  of  the  outer  twigs  for  lurking 
insects  and  larvse,  its  rich  orange  and  glowing  jet  flashing 
in  vivid  contrast  to  the  bright  green  of  the  young  foliage ; 
it  is  indeed  the  "winged  flame  of  Spring."  The  male 
usually  arrives  alone,  and  he  must  wait  a  time  for  the  ap- 
pearance of  his  spouse,  who  has  lingered  a  few  hours  on 
the  journey,  and  who  will  join  him  at  the  old  nest  when 
he  has  made  due  announcement  of  his  advent  in  the 
neighborhood.  From  the  top  of  the  old  cottonwood  in  the 


18G  .   Sketches  of  Some  Common   Birds. 

corner  of  the  farm- house  yard,  from  the  elms  and  willows 
fringing  the  banks  of  rivers  and  creeks,  as  well  as  from 
the  stately  rows  of  trees  along  the  town  and  cjty  high- 
ways, the  cheery  Baltimore  bird  proclaims  his  happiness 
in  no  doubtful  tones.  However,  though  his  music  springs 
from  a  gay  and  joyous  heart,  its  chief  quality  is  its  well- 
expressed  plaintiveness,  or  rather  its  clear  appeal  to  the 
pensive  side  of  our  nature;  and  ever  from  the  oriole  flows 
that  stream  of  plaintive  melody,  eloquent  to  the  sym- 
pathetic soul  of  the  observant  student  of  nature. 

Following  the  males  within  a  day,  or  sometimes  a  week, 
the  females  join  them  as  though  by  due  appointment. 
Their  courtships  are  not  conducted  with  the  ardor  of  their 
relatives,  the  bobolinks  and  meadow  larks.  If  they  are 
birds  of  last  year's  brood,  they  perhaps  had  a  tacit  under- 
standing before  their  northward  journey,  and  it  only  re- 
mains after  their  arrival  to  seal  the  compact  and  make  a 
selection  of  a  suitable  nesting  site.  If  they  are  older 
birds,  they  are  perhaps  mated  for  life,  and  return  to  the 
last  year's  nest  as  a  matter  of  course,  beginning  immedi- 
ately to  consider  the  advisability  of  remaining  another 
year  at  the  old  stand.  Several  weeks  are  spent  in  dalli- 
ance among  the  buds  and  blossoms,  and  in  discussing  with 
their  neighbors  the  prospects  of  the  pea  crop  and  the  pear 
harvest.  Then  nidification  begins  and  life  drifts  into  the 
monotony  of  a  well-regulated  household. 

Like  other  familiar  birds,  the  Baltimore  orioles  discover 
a  strong  attachment  for  the  places  chosen  as  their  homes 
in  preceding  seasons.  A  pair  has  been  known  to  nest 
repeatedly  in  the  same  tree,  returning  regularly  to  the 
same  spot  each  succeeding  year,  and  either  using  the  old 
,  nest  after  thoroughly  renovating  it,  or  else  building  a  new 
home  near  the  site  of  the  former  structure.  The  elms 
and  maples  along  the  highwaysin  townsand  citiesfurnish 
them  safebuilding  sites,  removed  from  squirrels  and  snakes, 
and  generally  from  owls,  and  usually  beyond  the  reach  of 
the  investigations  of  the  small  boy.  Willows  along  rivers 
and  creeks,  and  woodlands  generally  near  human  habita- 
tions are  tenanted  by  the  orioles.  Often  they  place  their 
nests  under  direct  observation  from  an  upper  window  or 


Baltimore  Oriole.  1ST 

door,  frequently  within  easy  reach  of  tho  vigilant  house 
cat. 

Tho  architectural  skill  of  the  Baltimore  oriole  has  done 
much  to  bring  the  species  into  prominence.  After  it  has 
acquired  an  experience  of  several  seasons,  its  deft  work- 
manship is  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  every  student 
of  bird- ways  who  has  examined  tho  strong  and  handsome 
pouch  it  constructs,  largely  from  vegetable  materials.  No 
North  American  bird  surpasses  it  in  the  quality  of  its 
work,  or  in  the  tact  and  ingenuity  it  displays  in  suspend- 
ing its  home  and  in  preserving  it  from  impending  ruin  on 
certain  occasions.  The  fragile,  cup-shaped  structures  of 
many  of  the  smaller  species  may  be  handsomer  and  more 
elaborate,  but  are  not  more  indicative  of  skill  and  genius. 
The  nest  is  generally  suspended  from  the  smaller  twigs  at 
the  extremity  of  a  long,  drooping  branch,  often  so  near 
the  tip  of  the  branch  that  the  weight  of  the  materials  is 
too  great  for  the  yielding  twigs.  A  site  frequently  chosen 
is  the  forking  twigs  of  the  topmost  bough  of  a  maple, 
directly  above  the  main  axis  of  the  tree. 

There  is  a  great  variety  in  the  materials  selected  and 
also  in  the  size  of  the  structure,  as  a  series  of  nests  of  tho 
same  pair  of  birds  will  show.  Tho  first  nest  may  be  no 
more  than  four  inches  deep,  while  older  birds  frequently 
weave  pouches  more  than  a  foot  in  length.  Vegetable 
fibers,  strings,  rags,  hair,  wool,  and  feathers  are  often 
wrought  into  the  same  nest,  and  constitute  the  ordinary 
materials.  Nests  of  experienced  builders  are  often  con- 
structed throughout  of  soft,  well-chosen  weed  fibers,  fre- 
quently of  milkweed  and  hemp,  deftly  and  artistically 
woven  into  a  symmetrical  pouch  of  uniform  color.  Low- 
ell's verse  is  perfect  in  its  details: 

"  Then  from  the  honeysuckle  gray 
The  oriole  with  experienced  quest, 
Twitches  the  fibrous  bark  away, 
The  cordage  of  his  hammock  nest, 
Cheering  his  labor  with  a  note 
Eich  as  the  orange  of  his  throat." 

Tho  real  nest  is  a  lining  of  soft  material  in  tho  bottom- 
of  the  hanging  tenement.  The  eggs  are  pale  grayish 
blue,  irregularly  marked,  scratched,  and  figured  with 


188  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

shades  of  brown,  with  lighter  shell  markings.  Four  to 
six  eggs  form  a  complement,  und  they  average  .92  by  .62 
of  an  inch. 

The  female  oriole  is  commendable  for  the  determination 
with  which  she  remains  in  her  nest  in  time  of  danger,  her 
pertinacity  often  involving  her  in  the  ruin  of  her  home. 
The  only  nest  of  the  oriole  I  ever  took  was  about  twenty 
feet  from  the  ground,  hanging  from  the  extremity  of  a 
branch  in  a  large  maple.  I  climbed  the  tree  soon  after 
sunrise,  and  around  the  branch  supporting  the  nest  I  tied 
a  stout  rope  as  far  as  1  could  reach,  out  from  the  axis  of 
the  tree,  fastening  the  rope  to  a  branch  above.  I  then 
sawed  through  the  lower  branch,  -which  dropped  as  far  as 
the  rope  gave  it  freedom.  The  nest  swung  within  a  few 
feet  of  the  ground,  where  my  father  was  waiting  to  secure 
the  nest  for  me.  On  placing  his  hand  into  the  nest  he 
found  the  female  still  sitting,  and  she  allowed  herself  to 
be  removed  from  the  cavity  with  no  demonstrations  of 
alarm  or  concern,  having  remained  upon  her  two  eggs 
during  the  confusion  in  the  tree  and  the  subsequent  full' 
of  her  home. 

The  birds  which  arrive  comparatively  late  from  their 
Southern  winter  quarters  depart  correspondingly  early, 
after  they  have  reared  their  broods  in  our  localities.  The 
Baltimore  orioles  are  especially  early  in  turning  their 
steps  toward  their  winter  homes  in  the  tropics.  I  believe 
that  second  broods  are  rare  exceptions  in  this  latitude. 
Most  young  birds  have  left  the  nest  by  the  last  of  June, 
though,  of  course,  by  reason  of  various  disasters,  many 
families  are  found  whose  nidification  and  incubation  are 
delayed.  Resident  orioles  forsake  our  highways  and 
door-yards  early  in  July,  their  absence  being  easily 
noticed  by  the  silence  which  reigns  in  their  accustomed 
haunts,  for  till  the  time  of  their  departure  their  melody 
never  fails  to  be  heard  daily  and  hourly.  About  the  first 
of  August  the  trees  are  again  melodious  with  the  welcome 
notes  of  migrants  from  higher  latitudes,  which,  having 
reached  their  destination  later  in  the  spring,  were  propor- 
tionately later  in  concluding  the  nesting  season,  and  are 
also  later  in  passing  our  latitude  on  their  return.  By  the 
fifteenth  of  August  this  second  wave  of  migration  has 


Baltimore  Oriole.  189 

passed"  us,  arid  these  brilliant  and  vivacious  songsters  have 
gone  from  us  for  another  year,  leaving  our  minds  filled 
with  regret  that  such  partings  must  follow  the  annual 
revolution  of  the  seasons. 

The  economical  relations  of  the  Baltimore  oriole  in  its 
food-habits  have  not  been  determined  as  fully  as  desired. 
Numerous  observers  attest  that  it  feeds  with  relish  on 
destructive  caterpillars,  pecking  fearlessly  into  their  webs 
when  it  seeks  them.  In  his  "Birds  of  Michigan,"  Prof. 
A.  J.  Cook  states  that  he  has  seen  this  oriole  eat  the  young 
bark  lice  from  linden  trees  in  the  spring,  and  has  seen 
it  driven  away  by  the  bees  and  wasps  that  came  for  the 
honey-dew.  It  frequently  exhibits  a  fondness  for  the  del- 
icate portions  of  the  pea  blossom.  In  this  connection, 
Eev.  J.  H.  Langille,  in  his  «  Our  Birds  in  Their  Haunts," 
thus  writes  of  an  incident  of  his  observation  :  "  The  Balti- 
more is  a  great  devourer  of  insects;  but,  like  other  birds- 
of  that  kind  of  diet,  he  will  occasionally  affect  a  change. 
Once,  after  a  spring  shower,  when  the  peach-trees  were  in 
bloom,  a  beautiful  male  lit  in  one  just  against  a  window. 
All  unconscious  of  my  presence,  though  I  was  scarcely 
more  than  two  feet  from  him,  he  began  moving  up  and 
down  the  limbs  in  that  gliding,  athletic  manner  peculiar 
to  himself,  ever  and  anon  inserting  his  bill  into  the  cup- 
like  calyx  of  the  blossoms.  Could  he  be  drinking  the 
newly-fallen  rain-drops?  Scarcely;  for  he  did  not  raise 
his  head  to  swallow.  Looking  a  little  more  closely,  I  saw 
that  he  was  eating  the  stamens.  Let  not  the  fruit-grower 
be  alarmed,  however,  for  nature  has  provided  many  more 
blossoms  than  is  necessary  for  a  good  crop.  It  may  be 
that  the  Baltimore  is  simply  thinning  them  to  advantage." 
It  is  highly  probable,  from  the  evidence  at  hand,  that 
while  the  oriole  may  seem  to  cause  occasional  slight  loss 
to  the  gardener,  its  admitted  services  in  the  destruction  of 
insect  pests  far  overbalance  any  apparent  injury  it  may 
do,  rendering  it  worthy  of  ample  protection  and  immunity. 

There  is  a  wonderful  variation  in  the  notes  of  different 
individuals  of  this  species,  and  also  in  the  notes  of  the 
same  individual.  To  the  observant  ornithologist  with 
nice  discrimination  of  hearing,  the  notes  of  any  individ- 
ual frequently  heard  are  sufficient  to  distinguish  it  from- 


190  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

others  wandering  in  the  same  neighborhood,  even  as  the 
voice  is  a  clue  to  the  identity  of  a  human  being.  I  be- 
came acquainted  with  the  notes  of  an  eloquent  male  Balti- 
more oriole  which  tenanted  a  certain  neighborhood  one 
spring.  I  heard  him  first  as  I  awoke  one  rainy  morning 
about  sunrise,  when  he  was  loudly  expressing  his  enjoy- 
ment in  the  rain  so  badly  needed.  To  my  drowsy  ears 
he  clearly  articulated  the  four  syllables,  "  O  sweet,  sweet 
rain,"  repeating  the  notes  as  he  traveled  leisurely  along 
the  row  of  maples  in  front  of  the  house,  probably  seeking 
a  breakfast  and  singing  as  he  worked,  the  usual  practice 
of  the  oriole.  Soon  his  growing  satisfaction  must  needs 
express  itself  in  six  syllables,  and  now  to  me  he  sang,  "O 
sweet,  O  sweet,  sweet  rain,"  always  employing  well-meas- 
ured iambic  feet  in  his  poetic  effusions,  though  sometimes 
he  uttered  but  one  note,  a  clear,  flute-like  call.  So  he 
sang  morning  after  morning  through  the  season,  and 
though  others  sang  in  the  neighborhood  at  different  times, 
there  was  an  individuality  in  his  notes  by  which  I  imme- 
diately identified  him.  In  the  evenings,  soon  after  sunset, 
he  would  travel  along  the  row  of  trees  uttering  a  harsh 
cackle,  probably  the  galbuline  language  he  used  when  he 
wished  to  discuss  private  affairs  with  his  spouse.  Or  could 
it  be  the  curtain  lecture  of  the  dame  to  her  high-spirited 
lord  ?  This  cackling  sort  of  call  or  note  is  familiar  to  all 
who  have  been  interested  in  thevocalism  of  this  attractive 
friend  of  the  highway  and  dooryard,  and  is  heard  in  the 
evening  during  the  nesting  time.  It  is  especially  notice- 
able when  the  young  birds  are  taking  their  first  lessons  in 
flying  and  in  the  ways  and  means  of  obtaining  a  success- 
ful living. 

EOSE-BEEASTED  GEOSBEAK. 

Among  the  woodland  birds  which  have  gradually 
adapted  themselves  to  urban  life,  and  are  now  regular 
residents  of  the  highways  and  garden  trees,  as  well  as  of 
the  maples  and  elms  skirting  water-courses,  the  rose- 
breasted  grosbeak  is  especially  worthy  the  friendship  of 
all  classes.  This  noble  and  interesting  songster,  though 
quite  common  in  the  larger  shade  trees  along  our  streets 


Rose  Breasted  Grosbeak.  191 

during  the  migrating  and  early  nesting  season,  appears 
to  be  almost  unknown  except  to  the  close  observer  of 
bird-life.  No  other  Illinois  bird  possesses  more  attractive 
characteristics  than  does  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak,  for 
he  is  endowed  with  charming  song,  splendid  plumage,  and 
most  engaging  manners.  He  is  one  of  the  most  showily 
attired  birds  which  haunt  the  highways,  having  his  upper 
parts  deep  black,  his  breast  a  deep  carmine,  and  the 
remaining  lower  parts  pure  white.  The  female,  however, 
dresses  more  plainly,  wearing  a  gown  of  yellowish  brown, 
streaked  with  darker  colors  above,and  her  head  is  streaked 
with  white.  The  under  parts  of  her  dress  are  dingy  white, 
streaked  with  brown  on  the  sides  and  breast.  With  his 
beauty  of  attire,  the  male  is  gifted  with  a  voice  of  sur- 
passing richness,  which  rings  from  the  tops  of  the  elm 
trees  above  the  sidewalks,  but  which  is  so  seldom  noticed 
by  the  indifferent  passers-by.  His  loud,  clear  song  can  be 
heard  at  any  time  of  the  day  after  the  elm  buds  burst  into 
leaf  and  the  perfume  of  the  first  apple  blossoms  float  in 
the  air,  until  the  early  days  of  July. 

Unlike  most  other  birds,  he  is  seldom  seen  long  on  the 
wing,  as  he  prefers  to  spend  his  time  among  the  foliage 
of  a  favorite  tree.  Few  birds  are  so  leisurely  in  their 
movements  as  the  grosbeak.  An  individual  will  linger 
for  many  minutes  on  the  same  branch  and  for  hours  in  a 
tree,  if  it  is  undisturbed,  feeding  on  the  seeds  of  the  elm 
and  pulling  insects  from  their  lurking  places  in  the 
unfolding  buds  and  in  the  bark.  I  have  known  a  gros- 
beak to  spend  several  hours  in  a  large  elm  tree,  uttering 
his  beautiful  chansons  at  intervals,  and  frequently  hop- 
ping from  one  branch  to  another,  to  pick  insects  from 
leaves  and  buds  which  attracted  its  fancy.  Like  the 
prairie  horned  lark,  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak  generally 
utters  its  song  with  its  head  lowered  in  the  act  of  picking 
at  its  food,  though  at  times  it  sings  merely  for  the  sake 
of  singing. 

The  species  has  an  extensive  range,  being  found  in  all 
temperate  North  America  east  of  the  Missouri  Kiver.  It 
nests  as  far  south  as  39°  20'  in  special  localities,  and 
according  to  Eobert  Ridgway,  "  north  to  Labrador  and  the 


192  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

Saskatchewan;  winters  in  Cuba,  eastern  Mexico,  Central 
America,  and  northern  South  America,  as  far  as  Ecuador." 

In  the  latitude  of  39°  20',  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak 
appears  on  its  northward  migration  in  the  last  week  of 
April,  having  arrived  on  the  25th  in  1891,  and  on  the 
28th  in  1892.  It  reaches  eastern  localities  in  the  first 
week  of  May.  Eobert  Kidgway  says  that  the  species  is 
transient  in  the  southern  portion  of  Illinois,  passing  rather 
hurriedly  through  in  spring  and  full ;  but  in  the  northern 
portions  (perhaps  more  than  the  northern  half),  it  is  a 
summer  resident. 

My  knowledge  of  this  species  began  on  May  10,  1882, 
when  I  saw  several  specimens  in  a  small  elm  in  the  edge 
of  a  wood.  Since  then  I  have  seen  and  heard  them  both  in 
town  and  in  the  woods  every  season  through  the  entire 
summer.  For  the  first  week  after  their  arrival  the  rich 
melody  of  one  or  two  individuals  will  make  musical  a  par- 
ticular neighborhood.  They  do  not  range  aimlessly  over  a 
given  area,  but  a  pair  or  several  birds  will  choose  quarters 
in  a  certain  row  or  grove  of  trees,  and  will  seldom  go  abroad 
during  their  stay  in  the  locality.  When  one  perceives 
itself  to  be  watched  while  it  is  alternately  singing  and 
gleaning  morsels  from  the  buds,  it  gently  varies  its  sweet, 
full  notes  to  a  softer,  even  more  melodious  warble,  contin- 
uing its  occupation,  for  it  will  not  readily  take  flight  to 
escape  observation.  Its  song  is  a  very  loud,  modulated, 
intensified  counterpart  of  the  song  of  the  warbling  vireo, 
richer,  clearer,  longer,  and  in  every  way  superior.  In 
richness  and  fulness  of  tone  it  is  rivalled  by  the  Baltimore 
oriole,  but  the  fewer  notes  of  the  latter  render  its  song 
inferior  to  the  ringing  lyrics  of  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak. 
Though  the  song  of  the  grosbeak  seems  comparatively 
long,  it  occupies  only  from  four  to  six  seconds,  and  the 
bird  readily  executes  from  seven  to  eight  songs  per 
minute. 

The  grosbeak  is  especially  voluble  after  sunrise,  begin- 
ning about  an  hour  after,  and  continuing  for  about  two 
hours,  during  which  time  it  industriously  gathers  supplies 
for  the  morning  refreshment  of  its  spouse  or  family. 
Averaging  seven  songs  a  minute,  it  thus  utters  four  hun- 
dred and  twenty  songs  per  hour,  or  eight  hundred  and 


Rose- Breasted  Grosbeak.  193 

forty  in  the  two  hours  designated,  exclusive  of  its  pro- 
ductions at  other  times  through  the  day.  Its  progress 
along  a  row  of  trees  can  be  followed  by  its  music,  and  it 
aptly  chooses  a  time  when  other  songsters  are  nearly 
silent,  as  the  early  matins  of  the  robin,  song  sparrow, 
brown  thrasher,  and  other  musicians  are  then  discon- 
tinued while  they  are  attending  to  the  wants  of  their 
families.  Both  sexes  have  a  note  resembling  the  syllable 
"chick,"  littered  in  a  tone  suggesting  the  creak  of  a  key 
in  a  rusty  lock.  The  male  commonly  introduces  his  song 
with  this  note  uttered  in  a  lower  tone,  and  on  changing 
his  position  he  usually  uses  this  call  when  he  takes  a  new 
perch.  In  fact,  it  is  the  regular  call  of  the  species,  and  it 
is  used  by  the  female  at  all  times,  and  by  the  young  birds 
when  they  begin  to  forage  for  themselves. 

The  favorite  nesting  places  of  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak 
are  thorny  trees  and  bushes,  orchards,  dwarf  forest  trees, 
and  tall  shrubs.  Dr.  Hoy,  of  Racine,  Wisconsin,  reports 
its  nesting  in  thorn-trees,  from  six  to  ten  feet  from  the 
ground,  in  the  central  portion  of  the  top.  In  our  locality 
the  nest  is  placed  on  the  horizontal  branches  of  elms  and 
in  crotches  of  oblique  limbs  of  garden  fruit  trees,  as  well 
as  in  elms  and  willows  overhanging  the  streamsides.  It 
is  a  slight  structure,  resembling  the  work  of  the  mourn- 
ing dove  or  the  cuckoos,  formed  of  dried  twigs,  with 
which  is  mingled  a  scant  supply  of  dried  grass  and  weed 
fibers.  Davie  says:  "  The  eggs  are  three  to  five  in  number, 
the  latter  being  uncommon.  They  are  greenish-blue  or 
bluish-green,  more  or  less  spotted  over  the  entire  surface 
with  blotches  of  reddish-brown;  the  eggs  resemble  very 
closely  those  of  the  Summer  Redbird  or  Scarlet  Tanager; 
sizes  range  from  .95  to  1.08  inches  in  length  by  .70  to  .76 
in  breadth." 

Dr.  Cones  states  that  the  eggs  are  laid  in  June.  Many 
individuals  probably  nest  earlier;  however,  some  Illinois 
observers  report  that  the  rose-breasted  grosbeaks  have  nests 
with  full  complements  in  the  last  week  of  May.  I  have 
frequently  seen  birds  lately  from  the  nest,  before  the  first 
of  June.  It  is  probable  that  two  broods  are  reared  in  some 
i  nstances. 

In  1893,  while  rambling  in  quest  of  bird-lore,  I  saw 
13 


194  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

young  grosbeaks  in  the  woods  on  June  23d.  On  August 
7th  I  again  saw  young  grosbeaks  in  the  woods  associating 
with  young  towhees  and  cardinals,  though  the  latter  flew 
away  while  the  grosbeaks  remained  in  a  bare  tree,  and 
very  coolly  allowed  me  to  make  satisfactory  observations. 
Soon  after  sunrise  on  the  morning  of  August  9th  I 
observed  a  young  grosbeak  feeding  on  the  seeds  of  the 
sunflowers  growing  in  my  garden.  It  frequently  uttered 
a  plaintive  "  quee  "  in  a  low  tone.  "When  I  approached 
quite  near,  it  flew  into  a  maple  tree  just  within  the  yard, 
accompanied  by  an  adult  male  I  had  not  noticed.  Again, 
on  August  12th,  I  noted  an  adult  male  rose-breasted  gros- 
beak feeding  a  young  bird  in  a  low  elm  in  front  of  my 
homo,  and  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  I  saw  a  young 
bird  of  the  species  in  a  neighbor's  door-yard.  From  these 
facts  I  conclude  that  two  broods  are  frequently  reared  in 
this  extreme  southern  limit  of  their  breeding  range.  The 
young  birds  can  be  noted  by  the  sharp  "  chick  "  they 
utter  at  frequent  intervals,  and  also  by  their  peculiar 
low,  whining,  plaintive  cry,  often  repeated  many  times  at 
frequent  intervals,  represented  by  the  syllables  "tu-rer," 
the  first  accented  and  lengthened.  The  care  of  the  young 
birds  appears  to  devolve  largely  upon  the  male  parent, 
and  indeed  a  large  share  of  the  incubating  is  done  by  the 
good-natured  father-bird.  Dr.  Hoy  tells  us  that  he  found 
that  three  of  four  parent  birds  sitting  on  the  nests  were 
males. 

Passing  under  a  low  plum  tree  near  the  sidewalk  in 
town  on  the  morning  of  Memorial  Day,  1896,  I  heard  the 
plaintive  whining  of  a  young  bird,  and  soon  discovered 
the  author  of  the  cry  on  a  branch  above  my  head.  It 
seemed  a  bunch  of  fluffy,  yellowish-white  down,  with 
dark  markings,  and  I  immediately  identified  the  little  , 
helpless  fellow  as  a  young  rose-breasted  grosbeak.  The' 
baby  was  evidently  waiting  for  one  of  its  parents  to  bring 
its  breakfast,  and  it  frequently  made  known  its  wants  by 
repeating  its  plaintive  cry.  Soon  another  young  bird  was 
found  in  an  adjoining  tree,  and  as  I  watched  them  the 
father -bird  came  along  uttering  his  "kick,"  which  he  soon 
changed  to  a  sharp  chirp  of  alarm  when  he  found  his 
babies  the  center  of  observation.  Low  in  the  branches 


Rose- Breasted  Grosbeak.  195 

of  an  adjacent  plum  tree  he  bopped  and  swung,  anxiously 
chirping  his  pleadings  for  the  little  ones,  who  were  evi- 
dently taking  their  first  outing,and  really  should  have  been 
back  in  their  nest  for  a  few  days  longer.  The  loud  songs 
of  the  grosbeak  which  I  had  previously  heard  in  the  neigh- 
borhood had  intimated  to  me  that  a  pair  of  grosbeaks  had 
certainly  established  a  home  in  the  vicinity,  and  these 
immaturely  fledged  youngsters  were  proof  positive  of  the 
fact.  Late  in  the  fall,  when  the  withered  leaves  dropped 
from  the  plum-tree  and  left  its  outlines  bare,  there  was 
exposed  a  nest  made  solely  of  dried  twigs  placed  in  a 
convenient  crotch,  about  twelve  feet  from  the  sidewalk. 
I  had  passed  beneath  it  several  times  every  day  during 
its  construction  and  subsequent  occupancy,  but  had  been 
neglectful  of  this  golden  opportunity  to  study  a  bit  of  bird 
life  almost  at  my  open  door. 

Attractive  as  this  bird  is,  both  in  its  colors  and  in  its 
song,  it  has  escaped  the  notice  of  many  who  know  some- 
thing of  our  common  birds.  This  is  perhaps  due  to  the 
fact  that  it  is  nowhere  abundant,  and  furthermore  that  its 
notes  to  the  untrained  listener  resemble  the  utterances 
of  the  oriole,  and  hence  the  latter  receives  credit  for  much 
of  the  grosbeak's  music.  However,  the  notes  of  the  gros- 
beak are  more  numerous  and  its  song  is  more  modulated 
than  the  oriole's.  The  oriole  usually  swings  among  the 
outer  twigs  of  long  branches,  while  the  grosbeak  is  inclined 
to  sit  among  the  branches  nearer  their  middle  points. 
Moreover,  there  is  no  similarity  between  these  two  gifted 
species  in  color,  except  the  black,  the  orange  red  of  the 
oriole  being  umistakable,  while  the  white  under  parts  and 
carmine  breast  of  the  grosbeak  serve  readily  to  identify 
it.  If  the  grosbeak  is  under  close  observation,  its  thick 
bill  is  a  further  guide  toward  identification,  for  it  is  inti- 
mately related  to  the  cardinal,  and  has  the  strong,  thick- 
ened bill  which  is  characteristic  of  the  finch  family.  The 
body  of  the  grosbeak  is  larger  than  that  of  the  oriole, 
being  plump  and  well-rounded,  while  the  oriole  is  slimmer 
and  less  robust. 

The  rose-breasted  grosbeak  has  other  qualities  to  recom- 
mend it  besides  its  rich  plumage  and  beautiful  song.  In 
many  parts  of  the  Mississippi  Valley  it  is  known  as  the 


196  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

"potato-bug  bird,"  since  it  is  one  of  the  few  birds  kuown 
to  feed  on  that  scourge  of  the  gardener.  I  have  myself 
startled  it  in  the  act  of  feeding  on  the  potato  beetles  upon 
the  vines,  when  it  would  fly  into  a  convenient  tree  and 
wipe  its  heavy  bill  carefully  on  the  branch  on  which  it 
was  seated.  The  food  of  the  grosbeak  consists  almost 
exclusively  of  noxious  insects,  and  its  services  in  this  way 
are  incalculable.  In  the  Eeport  of  the  Secretary  of  Agri- 
culture for  1839,  page  369,  occurs  this  note:  "With  the 
Grosbeak  the  habit  of  eating  potato- bugs  proves  to  be 
fairly  constant,  but  unfortunately  the  bird  does  not  seem 
to  be  very  abundant  anywhere,  and  hence  the  resulting 
benefits  have  not  been  generally  noticed.  Some  of  our 
correspondents  have  suggested  that  the  scarcity  of  this 
bird  and  perhaps  of  others  may  be  due  to  the  habit  of 
eating  insects  in  places  where  Paris  green  has  been  used, 
but  after  careful  inquiry  we  find  no  warrant  for  believing 
such  to  be  the  case.  We  have  not  been  able  to  learn  of  a 
single  instance  in  which  any  undomesticated  bird  has 
been  found  dead  in  the  vicinity  of  potato  fields  under  cir- 
cumstances pointing  to  this  cause.  Birds  certainly  exer- 
cise much  judgment  in  selecting  their  food,  and  it  is  not 
probable  that  they  would  eat  sickly  or  dying  insects  so 
long  as  healthy  ones  were  to  be  found."  Very  few  birds 
prey  upon  the  pest  of  the  potato  grower,  and  when  one  is 
found  to  aid  the  gardener  in  his  work,  it  should  be  jeal- 
ously protected  in  its  nesting  and  in  its  general  habits. 

Yery  early  in  July  the  expressive  melody  of  the  rose- 
breasted  grosbeak  ceases  to  float  down  to  our  ears.  On 
the  fifth  of  July,  1896,  I  was  delighted  with  the  eloquent 
notes  of  a  loquacious  male  which  made  frequent  journeys 
along  a  row  of  maples  in  front  of  the  house  where  I  was 
staying.  For  two  or  three  hours  in  the  morning  and  for 
about  the  same  time  toward  evening  he  was  especially 
voluble.  The  season  of  song  usually  ends  when  the  young 
leave  the  nest,  and  thereafter  only  the  sharp  "kick" 
apprises  the  listener  of  the  proximity  of  his  feathered 
friend,  whose  movements  otherwise  attract  little  attention, 
and  who  is  generally  overlooked  during  the  latter  part 
of  the  season. 

The  rose-breasted  grosbeaks  which  sing  to  any  degree 


YOUNG   YELLOW   WARBLER,    WITH    NEST. 

From  life.     After  Shufeldt. 


Yellow  Warbler.  197 

late  in  June  or  early  in  July  are  doubtless  rearing  second 
broods.  Like  the  orioles  and  some  other  species  notice- 
able in  the  early  half  of  the  season,  they  are  strangely 
silent  and  retired  through  the  most  of  July  and  August. 
Indeed,  their  songs  are  never  heard  after  the  nesting  sea- 
son, and  on  their  fall  migration  they  pass  our  latitude 
silently  and  hurriedly,  scarcely  deigning  to  alight  amid 
the  scenes  of  their  joys  and  trials  in  the  early  summer. 
We  see  the  last  of  them  commonly  in  the  third  week  of 
September,  and  to  the  genial  southern  quarters  toward 
which  they  hasten,  they  carry  our  warmest  regard  and 
admiration  ;  for  they  are  indeed  worthy  of  far  more  atten- 
tion and  study  than  have  hitherto  been  given  to  these 
highly  gifted  friends  of  the  highway. 


YELLOW  WARBLER. 

Another  familiar  friend  of  the  highway  and  door-yard  is 
the  little  yellow  warbler,  or  summer  yellowbird.  Beyond 
doubt  this  sprightly  dot  is  the  best  known  of  our  warblers. 
Its  wide  distribution,  its  animated  deportment,  its  pretty 
song,  its  familiar  manners,  and  its  gentle  confidence,  all 
tend  to  widen  its  circle  of  friendship.  Its  golden  colors 
flashing  in  the  sunlight  in  its  passage  among  the  orna- 
mental and  shade  trees  of  lawns,  parks,  and  streets,  arrest 
the  attention  of  the  observing  passer-by;  and  most  people 
are  acquainted  with  the  "wild  canary,"  though  they  know 
but  few  other  birds.  Its  morning  and  evening  warble 
delights  hosts  of  residents  of  more  populous  districts,  who 
see  only  the  birds  which  come  to  them,  for  this  pleasing 
warbler  finds  a  home  in  the  maples  and  elms  along  the 
city  streets  and  in  the  fruit  trees  of  gardens  and  in 
suburban  orchards,  as  well  as  in  woodlands  and  rural 
neighborhoods. 

In  extent  of  habitat  the  yellow  warbler  stands  at  the 
bead  of  our  North  American  avi-fauna.  Robert  Ridgway 
says  that  no  other  North  American  bird  has  so  extensive 
a  range,  or  so  general  a  distribution  as  the  summer  yellow- 
bird,  which  appears  equally  at  home  in  the  sub-tropical 
lands  along  the  Gulf  Coast  and  the  shores  of  the  Arctic 


198  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

Ocean;  while  it  is  no  less  numerous  in  the  parched  valleys 
of  California  and  Arizona  than  in  the  humid  districts  of 
the  Atlantic  water-shed.  It  breeds  from  the  Gulf  north- 
ward throughout  its  range,  and  winters  southward  from 
our  southern  border  to  northern  South  America,  avoiding 
the  West  Indies. 

On  its  movement  to  its  summer  home  it  enters  the 
United  States  on  or  after  March  1st,  and  arrives  in  cen- 
tral Illinois  about  the  middle  of  April.  The  unfolding 
buds  of  the  soft  maples  and  the  expanding  blossoms  of 
the  fruit  trees  in  our  gardens  mark  the  time  of  its  appear- 
ance. During  the  remaining  days  of  April  it  revels  amid 
the  resplendent  glories  of  the  new  wealth  of  unfolding 
life,  trilling  its  rattling  love-lays  and  selecting  the  sito  for 
its  summer  home.  As  it  gleans  among  the  buds  for  insects 
and  larvse,  its  yellow  plumage  blends  with  the  delicate 
tints  of  the  blossoms  in  orchards  and  gardens,  rendering 
it  rather  difficult  to  observe  in  its  dark  green  setting  of 
foliage.  It  is  seen  to  best  advantage  when  it  flashes 
through  the  air  like  a  wind-driven  leaf  of  gold,  and  after 
it  has  alighted  on  a  convenient  perch  it  can  be  examined 
in  detail. 

Once  a  little  yellow  warbler  darted  swiftly  into  a 
small  plum  bush  within  ten  feet  of  the  spot  where  I  was 
sitting,  and  I  could  plainly  note  the  bright  yellow  of  its 
under  parts,  with  streaks  of  chestnut  scarcely  perceptible, 
and  the  greenish  olive  of  its  back.  The  yellow  of  its 
attire  is  not  nearly  so  bright  and  striking  as  that  of  the 
goldfinch,  with  which  the  yellow  warbler  is  so  frequently 
confounded.  The  color  of  the  goldfinch  is  a  bright  lemon, 
quite  different  from  the  true  olive  yellow  of  the  real  warb- 
ler. The  male  goldfinch  in  his  summer  garb  can  always 
be  identified  by  his  jet  cap  and  wings.  There  is  a  proba- 
bility of  mistaking  the  yellow  warbler  for  the  female  gold- 
finch and  the  female  Maryland  yellow-throat,  any  of  these 
common  species  being  popularly  known  as  "  yellowbird  " 
and  "wild  canary."  However,  the  stocky  and  robust 
form  of  the  Maryland  yellow-throat,  and  the  recollection 
that  the  yellow  of  its  under  parts  is  brightest  on  the  throat, 
will  serve  to  identify  it  to  boys  and  girls  with  bright  eyes 
and  ready  memories.  The  female  goldfinch  has  the  same 


Yellow  Warbler.  199 

dark  or  black  wings  and  tail  as  the  male  of  the  species, 
and  her  under  parts  are  much  the  color  of  the  upper  parts 
of  the  male  yellow  warbler. 

Before  the  pink  and  white  petals  of  the  apple  blossoms 
have  faded  and  fallen,  the  yellow  warbler  has  begun  the 
pleasant  task  of  constructing  its  cozy  habitation.  The 
shade  trees  along  the  highways  furnish  it  nesting  places 
in  the  upright  twigs  of  large  branches,  and  most  of  the 
nests  of  the  species  are  thus  placed.  Fruit  trees  in  gar- 
dens and  orchards,  and  bushes,  shmbbery,  and  woodlands, 
furnish  attractive  sites  for  its  home.  In  river  bottoms  it 
is  fond  of  nesting  in  the  willows  so  abundant  in  swampy 
regions,  and  the  catkins  of  these  trees  largely  predomi- 
nate in  the  materials  used  in  the  structure  when  it  nests 
in  such,  localities.  The  species  is  locally  known  as  the 
willow  warbler  and  willow  wren,  because  it  is  so  often 
found  nesting  in  those  trees.  The  younger  elms  in  towns 
and  cities  furnish,  it  more  favorable  sites  than  elsewhere. 
A  favorite  nesting  site  in  this  locality  is  found  in  untrim- 
med  hedges  of  two  or  three  years'  growth,  the  nest  being 
generally  placed  in  an  upright  fork  on  an  obliquely 
ascending  branch  near  the  top.  The  young  trees  of  new 
orchards  are  favored  situations,  the  numerous  twigs  aiding 
to  support  the  dainty  structures. 

Once  I  found  a  nest  placed  on  a  horizontal  branch  of  a 
small  elm  along  the  sidewalk  in  the  little  city  where  I  then 
lived,  the  site  being  on  one  of  the  lowest  limbs  which 
projected  over  the  walk,  thus  locating  the  nest  within  six 
feet  of  the  heads  of  the  passers-by.  It  is  probable  that 
the  pair  had  constructed  this  nest  unobserved,  for  the  tree 
was  on  a  corner  where  small  boys  in  the  neighborhood 
congregated  regularly,  and  it  formed  a  sort  of  trysting 
place  from  its  location.  When  I  observed  the  nest  for 
the  first  time,  I  was  standing  under  the  tree,  and  the 
female  was  sitting  jauntily  and  fearlessly  in  her  snug 
home,  regardless  of  our  movements  and  conversation. 
Her  confidence  was  ruthlessly  betrayed,  however,  for 
when  I  passed  the  spot  some  days  later  the  nest  was  gone. 
It  had  probably  been  made  the  prize  of  some  keen-eyed 
small  boy,  for  few  of  them  can  resist  the  desire  to  carry 


200  Sketches  of  'Some  Common  Birds. 

home  a  dainty  nest  with  a  complement  of  eggs,  as  I 
remember  from  my  own  experience. 

The  nest  is  made  of  soft  plant  fibers,  pliant  bark,  and 
fine  grasses,  neatly  woven  and  compacted  into  a  snug  cup, 
and  cozily  lined  with  small  soft  feathers  and  vegetable 
down.  The  eggs  are  greenish -gray,  spotted  with  reddish- 
brown,  the  spots  sometimes  congregating  in  a  ring  about 
the  larger  end.  Four  or  five  eggs  are  found  in  a  comple- 
ment, and  they  average  .68  by  .48  of  an  inch. 

In  its  economical  relations  the  yellow  warbler  is  very 
beneficial,  since  its  food  consists  almost  exclusively  of 
insects  harmful  to  vegetation.  In  an  orchard  infested 
with  canker-worms,  five  specimens  of  this  warbler  were 
secured  by  Prof.  S.  A.  Forbes,  who  reported  that  two- 
thirds  of  their  food  were  canker-worms,  and  the  remain- 
ing portions  were  noxious  insects  and  spiders.  It  is 
undoubtedly  the  interest  of  the  horticulturist  to  encour- 
age the  presence  of  the  yellow  warbler,  and  to  protect  it 
from  the  molestations  of  the  usurping  English  sparrow 
by  driving  the  latter  from  his  trees  and  buildings. 

The  yellow  warbler  is  subject  to  regular  impositions  of 
the  cowbird,  nests  being  rarely  found  that  do  not  contain 
one  or  more  eggs  of  the  parasite.  The  warbler  does  not 
always  incubate  these  eggs,  however,  for  experience  has 
doubtless  taught  it  the  results  of  receiving  the  stranger 
into  its  embryonic  family.  Frequently  it  builds  a  floor 
over  the  egg  of  the  intruder,  though  it  may  often  inclose 
eggs  of  its  own  by  thus  adding  a  new  story  to  its  dwell- 
ing. If  the  cowbird  succeeds  in  placing  its  egg  in  the 
second  story,  the  warbler  will  sometimes  add  a  third  room 
upon  the  second,  for  authentic  observers  have  reported 
nests  containing  two  and  even  three  incomplete  sets  of 
eggs  below  the  set  which  the  warbler  was  incubating. 
However,  instances  of  such  building  to  cover  the  eggs  of 
the  parasite  are  not  the  rule. 


YOUNG   CHIPPING   SPARROWS. 

From  life.    After  Shufeldt. 


Chipping  Sparrow.  201 


CHIPPING  SPARROW. 

Any  account  of  our  familiar  friends  of  the  bigbway  and 
door-yard  would  be  incomplete  without  mention  of  the 
familiar  and  well-known  chipping  sparrow.  Who  does 
not  admire  its  pretty,  modest  ways?  Its  thoughtful  con- 
fidence in  visiting  our  doorsteps  to  glean  a  breakfast  of 
crumbs,  as  well  as  its  frequent  residence  in  the  door-yard 
bush  or  the  hedge  surrounding  the  garden,  where  its  snug 
babitation  is  the  delight  of  the  children  who  respect  its 
winning  trust,  combine  to  render  the  little  chippy  a  uni- 
versal favorite.  Many  of  the  birds  that  visit  our  door- 
yards  are  also  residents  of  other  localities,  and  only  some 
individuals  of  the  species  dwell  among  us,  while  the  others 
prefer  to  live  elsewhere ;  but  the  chipping  sparrow  finds 
its  chief  pleasure  in  the  vicinity  of  dwellings  and  near 
the  society  of  man.  It  has  nothing  of  the  spirit  of  the 
recluse,  and  we  need  not  look  for  the  chippy  to  be  living 
far  away  from  the  homes  of  man;  for  if  we  do  not  find  it 
inhabiting  the  hedges  surrounding  the  house  and  out- 
buildings, we  will  not  find  it  elsewhere  about  the  premi- 
ses. Before  the  advent  and  establishment  of  the  vicious 
house  sparrow,  the  engaging  little  chippy  was  a  common 
resident  any  where  about  our  towns  and  cities  in  the  parks, 
highway  trees,  and  gardens,  and  it  is  yet  as  familiar  where 
it  has  not  been  altogether  displaced.  It  is  a  common  sight 
to  see  several  of  the  truculent  English  sparrows  set  upon 
one  of  the  harmless  chipping  sparrows  which  is  industri- 
ously seeking  its  fare  or  the  horsehairs  it  desires  for  the 
construction  of  its  nest,  and  brutally  drive  it  from  the 
roadside,  or  else  wound  it  severely  and  perhaps  kill  it. 
In  the  larger  towns  and  cities,  where  the  English  sparrows 
are  so  firmly  established,  the  presence  of  the  chippy  has 
become  the  exception,  and  rural  homes  have  become  the 
most  favored  resorts  of  the  species. 

The  chipping  sparrow  lives  in  the  eastern  portions  of 
temperate  North  America,  extending  its  habitat  westward 
to  the  Eocky  Mountains.  In  winter  it  passes  as  far  south 
as  eastern  Mexico,  passing  the  season  between  that  region 
and  the  southern  limits  of  the  middle  States.  It  is  said 


202  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

to  breed  chiefly  in  the  middle  and  northern  States.  Like 
its  closely  allied  relative,  the  field  sparrow,  the  chippy 
comes  to  us  at  the  opening  of  spring,  soon  after  the  middle 
of  March.  It  takes  up  the  chant  which  the  retiring  junco 
so  persistently  utters  in  the  latter  days  of  March  and  in 
early  April,  and  their  rattling  trills  are  so  nearly  alike 
that  it  will  require  discriminating  ears  of  wideawake  boys 
and  girls  to  avoid  confusing  their  songs.  The  junco,  or 
snowbird,  however,  sings  with  more  force  and  spirit,  and 
sometimes  with  more  variation.  The  snowbird  begins  to 
sing  some  days  before  the  sparrow  appears,  hence  observ- 
ant students  of  the  birds  can  first  become  acquainted  with 
the  trill  of  the  junco,  and  when  the  chippy  begins  his 
shrill  rattle  it  can  be  readily  separated  from  the  music  of 
the  snowbird,  which  wilL  sometimes  continue  to  sing  until 
the  middle  of  April.  The  snowbird,  or  slate-colored  junco, 
as  the  books  call  it,  and  the  chipping  sparrow  sing  from 
similar  situations,  usually  selecting  a  perch  near  the  sum- 
mit of  an  obliquely  ascending  branch  of  a  small  tree, 
sometimes  in  a  large  one,  remaining  contentedly  for  many 
minutes,  if  they  are  not  disturbed.  The  sparrow  throws 
its  tiny  head  upward,  and  its  little  throat  can  be  seen  to 
flutter  with  the  frequent  utterances  of  its  sharp,  monoto- 
nous trill,  consisting  of  the  syllable  "  chip,"  repeated  rap- 
idly for  about  four  seconds,  more  rapidly  than  I  can  count 
with  it.  From  the  repetition  of  the  note  in  its  song  our 
little  friend  has  received  its  name  of  chipping  sparrow. 

These  familiar  birds  can  be  seen  hopping  along  the 
roadside,  usually  in  pairs,  probably  searching  for  the 
hairy  materials  they  use  in  building  their  tiny  habitations. 
Their  attachment  is  remarkable,  and  during  the  mating 
and  nesting  season  many  charming  little  love-scenes  can 
be  witnessed  by  the  bird-gazer.  They  frequently  resort 
to  the  hedges  near  towns  along  railroads,  and  the  tele- 
graph or  telephone  wires  offer  them  convenient  places  for 
sitting  and  singing.  Both  birds  of  the  pair  often  perch 
near  each  other,  and  it  is  no  unusual  thing  for  them  to 
sidle  nearer  and  occasionally  rub  noses  in  a  loving  man- 
ner, "billing"  without  "the  cooing."  The  male  is  a  won- 
derfully polite  little  fellow,  and  he  would  not  think  of 
eating  any  tid-bit  he  secures  without  first  passing  it  to 


Chipping  Sparrow.  203 

his  fair  charmer,  while  she  perhaps  coyly  refuses  the  first 
proffers  of  her  admirer.  Waiting  a  short  time,  the  male 
again  offers  her  the  tempting  morsel,  often  placing  it 
almost  against  her  bill,  and  thus  the  scene  is  re-enacted 
until  the  female  accepts  his  offering,  or  he  swallows  it 
himself.  The  yard  about  the  kitchen  door  is  a  favorite 
place  for  them  to  visit,  as  they  are  pretty  certain  to  glean 
a  substantial  meal  from  the  shaken  table-cloth.  There 
they  must  learn  to  elude  the  stealthy  approaches  of  the 
watchful  cat,  and  she  usually  finds,  after  a  few  unsuccess- 
ful attempts  to  capture  them,  that  they  are  wiser  than 
their  tiny  heads  would  indicate^  and  thenceforth  she 
suffers  them  to  take  their  supplies  from  the  door-yard 
without  further  molestation. 

The  favorite  nesting  places  of  the  chipping  sparrow 
are  low  bushes  in  the  gardens  and  yards,  and  hedges 
which  have  been  trimmed  very  closely,  and  which  sur- 
round the  dwellings  they  regularly  visit.  The  nest  is 
placed  among  upright  stems  of  the  bushes,  commonly 
above  the  middle  point.  When  in  a  hedge,  it  is  usually 
placed  in  a  strong  crotch  near  the  top,  the  stout  limbs 
nearly  concealing  the  nest.  The  nests  in  hedges  are  gen- 
erally made  before  the  leaves  fully  unfold,  and  hence  the 
structures  can  be  discovered  by  keen  eyes.  After  the 
hedges  are  in  full  leaf  it  is  difficult  to  find  the  nests. 
Many  nests  are  placed  in  currant  and  gooseberry  bushes. 
The  trees  of  the  highways  and  door-yards  contain  a  fair 
portion  of  nests,  usually  in  crotches  of  obliquely  ascend- 
ing branches,  sites  that  are  similar  to  those  chosen  by  the 
yellow  warbler.  A  pair  of  chippies  frequently  show  their 
attachment  to  their  previous  home  by  returning  the  next 
season  to  the  same  vicinity  and  erecting  a  new  home  near 
the  same  site. 

Sometimes  the  nest  is  made  wholly  of  horsehairs  and 
cowhairs,  and  it  must  require  much  careful  and  patient 
searching  in  the  roads  and  barn-yards  to  procure  the 
necessary  amount  of  material.  It  is  eminently  proper 
that  this  sparrow  should  be  sometimes  called  the  "  hair- 
bird,"  for  this  material  appears  almost  indispensable  in 
the  fabrication  of  its  home,  as  the  cast-off  snake  skin  is  a 
necessary  component  of  the  home  of  the  crested  flycatcher. 


204  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

Sometimes  the  outer  wall  of  the  nest  is  made  of  common 
dried  grass,  and  the  hair  is  used  merely  for  lining.  Three 
or  four  eggs  form  the  usual  complement,  sometimes  five, 
and  they  are  bluish-green,  thinly  spotted  with  purplish 
and  blackish-brown,  often  more  numerously  at  the  larger 
end.  They  average  .70  by  .50  of  an  inch.  As  nests  with 
fresh  eggs  are  found  in  May  and  in  June,  it  is  probable 
that  two  broods  are  reared  in  most  instances. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  trills  of  the  chippies  are  heard 
more  frequently  in  July  than  at  any  other  time.  This, 
however,  may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  then  many  of  the 
songsters  of  the  earlier  season  have  become  silent,  and 
the  vocalism  of  the  chipping  sparrows  is  more  apparent 
from  the  lack  of  competing  voices.  They  utter  about  seven 
songs  a  minute,  making  about  four  hundred  and  twenty 
per  hour.  They  sing  persistently  at  all  times  of  the  day, 
and  frequently  repeat  their  trills  in  the  darkness  of  night 
when  restless  or  disturbed.  If  their  total  practice  through 
the  day  amounts  to  five  hours,  it  is  probable  that  they  utter 
more  than  two  thousand  songs  in  a  day,  and  perhaps  even 
more ;  a  wonderful  record  for  these  little  musicians.  Their 
efforts  to  enliven  the  warm  afternoons  of  July  are  as 
manifest  as  those  of  the  indigo  bunting,  the  song  sparrow, 
or  the  Maryland  yellow-throat.  Frequently  they  sing 
from  the  ground,  and  it  is  said  that  their  first  announce- 
ments of  the  approach  of  dawn  are  uttered  while  sitting 
on  the  earth.  Even  before  the  first  twitter  of  the  robin 
is  heard  at  dawn,  the  trills  of  the  chipping  sparrows  tell 
of  the  coming  day,  surely  a  feeble  introduction  to  the 
grand  chorua  of  early  bird  voices. 

Soon  after  sunset  of  one  evening  in  August,  I  was  acci- 
dentally made  the  interested  observer  of  the  movements 
of  a  young  chipping  sparrow  who  was  preparing  to  go  to 
bed.  He  darted  into  a  small  plum  tree  within  ten  feet  of' 
me,  settled  on  a  slender  branch  in  plain  view,  and  then 
began  to  preen  his  feathers,  taking  an  occasional  food 
morsel  from  adjacent  twigs.  He  was  very  leisurely  and 
deliberate  in  dressing  his  plumage,  giving  much  atten- 
tion to  the  tiny  feathers  under  his  wings.  In  dressing 
his  under  wing-coverts,  he  frequently  spread  his  dainty 
wings  until  I  could  accurately  distinguish  the  primnries. 


Chipping  Sparrow.  20& 

Having  cleaned  his  wings  to  his  satisfaction,  he  would 
indifferently  look  for  insects  within  reach,  occasionally 
extending  his  neck  and  head  to  glean  from  bark  or  foliage. 
He  had  evidently  had  his  supper,  however,  and  would 
soon  turn  his  bill  to  another  portion  of  his  plumage,  per- 
haps spreading  his  tail,  in  which  I  could  note  the  little 
notch,  until  it  was  expanded  in  partial  fan-shape,  as  he 
adjusted  the  soft  feathers  at  the  base  of  the  stiff  quills. 
Thus  he  spent  many  minutes  in  the  gathering  dusk,  sev- 
eral times  settling  himself  as  if  he  were  making  his  bed, 
though  I  knew  that  his  parents  and  brothers  and  sisters 
slept  among  tho  branches  of  a  large  elm  growing  beside 
the  doorstep  of  my  house.  "When  I  had  concluded  that 
he  was  surely  preparing  to  sleep  on  the  branch  from 
which  he  had  not  stirred,  there  came  a  sharp  chirp  from 
the  father  bird,  calling  his  loitering  son  to  join  the  family 
group  in  the  large  elm.  For  a  moment  the  independent 
little  fellow  yet  lingered,  but  at  another  anxious  call  he 
answered  in  like  manner  and  darted  away  like  a  dutiful 
son  to  his  usual  resting  place. 

"While  the  young  are  acquiring  strength  of  wing  and 
gaining  confidence  in  their  growing  powers,  they  and  their 
elders  spend  several  weeks  in  the  neighborhood  of  their 
home,  the  parents  patiently  teaching  their  offspring  to 
forage  and  care  for  themselves,  and  the  children  carefully 
attending  to  the  advice  and  illustrations  of  the  parents. 
Indeed,  the  devoted  parents  do  not  forsake  the  tender 
creatures  they  have  reared  so  lovingly,  and  the  children 
remain  within  hearing  and  reach  of  their  elders  until  the 
family  takes  its  departure  in  the  fall  to  the  southern  home. 
After  the  young  cease  to  depend  on  the  old  birds,  elders 
and  youngsters  both  make  their  home  in  the  weed  patches 
in  company  with  the  field  sparrows  and  other  species,  and 
fare  sumptuously  on  the  seeds  of  the  rag-weed  and  simi- 
lar plants  and  grasses.  Thus  they  feed  in  small  families 
or  companies  until  the  last  week  of  October,  when  they 
disappear  for  the  season. 


206  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 


WABBLING  VIREO. 

Persons  whose  ears  are  not  indifferent  to  the  sounds 
which  greet  them  in  their  passage  under  tall  maples  and 
spreading  elms  of  the  highways,  have  often  heard  with 
pleasure  the  charming  notes  of  the  warbling  vireo,  though 
perhaps  they  have  not  all  learned  to  identify  the  modest 
little  songster.  The  vireos  are  somewhat  difficult  to  dis- 
cover in  their  leafy  haunts,  for  the  colors  of  their  upper 
parts  closely  resemble  the  deep  green  of  the  foliage  amid 
which  they  sit  or  hop  in  their  quest  for  lurking  insects. 
Having  dark  olive  green  on  the  upper  parts  of  their 
plumage,  they  are  styled  "greenlets,"  and  the  lightly 
shaded  white  of  their  under  parts  renders  them  so  nearly 
like  the  mingled  foliage  and  shadow  that  the  untrained 
observer  seldom  spends  much  time  in  trying  to  distinguish 
them.  If  it  were  not  for  the  noticeable,  sympathetic 
warble  of  this  vireo,  the  emphatic,  monitory  notes  of  the 
red-eyed  species,  and  the  delicate  baskets  which  they 
swing  from  twigs  and  which  attract  notice  when  the 
leaves  fall  and  cease  to  hide  them  from  view,  these  two 
common  representatives  of  the  group  might  pass  unnoticed 
except  by  the  most  observing  students  of  bird-life.  The 
sweetly  sympathetic  lays  of  the  warbling  vireo  are  very 
acceptable  accompaniments  to  the  louder,  similar  lyrics 
of  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak  and  the  richer,  joyful  meas- 
ures of  the  Baltimore  oriole;  and  the  gentle  little  author 
of  the  melodious  expressions  of  contentment  and  satis- 
faction should  not  rank  among  the  least  known  of  the 
species  which  visit  us  and  dwell  among  us. 

The  different  species  of  vireos,  like  the  various  members 
of  the  flycatcher  group,  are  frequently  confused  by  the 
general  observer,  and  hence  they  are  not  so  well  known 
as  their  charming  manners  and  pleasing  characteristics 
merit.  The  five  species  of  vireos  which  find  a  summer 
home  throughout  Illinois  in  favorable  localities,  however, 
have  such  well-defined  resorts  and  such  marked  individ- 
ual traits  that  the  acute  bird-gazer  can  readily  learn  to 
separate  them  and  then  form  their  acquaintance  as  dis- 
tinctive members  of  the  vireo  family.  One  of  the  five, 


Warbling  Vireo.  207 

the  yellow-throated  vireo,  is  rarely  seen  in  this  region 
away  from  the  tangled  woods  and  thickets  of  the  river 
bottoms,  and  hence  the  resident  of  upland  districts  need 
not  mistake  any  of  its  congeners  for  this  regular  wood- 
land species.  Two  others  of  the  group,  the  white-eyed 
and  Bell's  vireos,  inhabit  the  thickets  and  tangles  of 
upland  localities,  hanging  their  nests  in  the  forks  of 
drooping  twigs  among  low  bushes  and  shrubbery,  and 
confining  their  movements  to  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
their  resorts.  They  rarely  appear  above  the  tops  of  their 
lowly  haunts,  so  they  need  not  be  confounded  with  the 
subject  of  this  sketch  and  the  remaining  species.  The 
red-eyed  and  the  warbling  vireos,  however,  are  likely  to 
be  confused;  yet  their  calls  and  notes  of  alarm  and  their 
noticeable  songs  are  so  different  that  the  discriminating 
student  can  identify  with  accuracy  each  of  them  by  giv- 
ing ordinary  attention  to  the  characteristics  mentioned  in 
the  descriptions  of  the  two  species.  As  a  further  aid  in 
discriminating  between  the  two  species,  the  red-eyed  vireo 
comes  to  us  several  days  earlier  than  the  warbling  vireo, 
giving  us  a  little  time  to  obtain  at  least  an  introduction  to 
it  before  the  latter  announces  its  presence. 

The  warbling  vireo  is  found  throughout  North  America 
in  general,  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  to  the  so-called  Fur 
Countries,  though  the  representatives  of  the  species  which 
live  in  western  regions  are  said  to  have  plainer  colors  and 
are  hence  classed  as  a  separate  race  by  some  authorities. 
It  breeds  throughout  its  extensive  habitat,  and  probably 
winters  in  the  Gulf  regions.  The  first  individuals  of  the 
species  come  among  us  in  the  fpurth  week  of  April,  not 
many  days  after  the  red-eyed  vireo  has  delivered  his  first 
exhortations,  and  add  their  touching  carols  to  the  rapidly 
increasing  chorals  of  nature.  They  commonly  appear  in 
the  same  week  with  two  other  noted  friends  of  the  high- 
way, the  rose-breasted  grosbeak  and  the  Baltimore  oriole, 
and  thenceforth  the  maples  and  elms  are  melodious  with 
the  notes  of  the  three  of  our  most  gifted  songsters.  Unlike 
the  two  species  named,  however,  the  warbling  vireos  do 
not  tire  of  their  efforts  to  cheer  us  with  their  music  so 
early  in  the  season.  Their  notes  are  heard  almost  daily 
along  the  streets  of  village,  town,  and  city,  from  the 


208  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

appearance  of  the  leaves  in  the  spring  to  the  time  they 
show  the  gorgeous  effects  of  the  first  frosts.  However, 
for  a  time  in  the  heated  season  in  July  their  songs  are 
heard  rarely,  or  occasionally  at  most;  but  after  the  silence 
of  the  moulting  period  they  warble  as  frequently  as  in  the 
earlier  days,  though  their  notes  are  now  more  touching  in 
their  somewhat  reduced  volume  and  intensity. 

The  song  of  the  warbling  vireo  is  longer  than  that  of  the 
red-eyed  species,  and  is  more  refined  and  expressive.  It 
is  most  like  the  song  of  the  rose- breasted  grosbeak,  yet  it 
lacks  the  loud  fullness  of  the  beautiful  strains  characteris- 
tic of  that  gifted  songster.  If  the  song  of  the  latter  were 
reduced  in  force,  it  would  be  really  difficult  to  distinguish 
the  author  by  the  music,  so  similar  are  the  songs  in 
quality,  though  at  times  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak  extends 
his  measures  beyond  the  length  of  the  longest  strains  of 
the  vireo.  When  you  hear  a  series  of  loud,  emphatic, 
monitorial  notes,  uttered  in  groups  of  three,  four,  or  five 
syllables,  each  group  with  a  rising  inflection  toward  the 
end,  coming  from  the  branches  about  the  middle  of  the 
height  of  the  tree  in  which  the  performer  is  seated,  you 
may  conclude  that  a  red-eyed  vireo  is  attracting  your 
attention.  When  you  hear  a  series  of  eight  to  twelve 
notes  uttered  continuously,  with  less  force,  but  wonder- 
fully expressive  and  touching,  issuing  from  about  the  same 
height  as  the  former,  and  you  recognize  the  author  as  very 
similar  in  appearance  to  the  red-eyed  species  whose  notes 
and  characteristics  you  have  lately  fixed  in  mind,  you 
may  begin  your  study  of  the  warbling  vireo  with  confi- 
dence and  success. 

When  the  warbling  vireo  perceives  itself  to  be  the  sub- 
ject of  over-zealous  observation  while  it  is  singing,  it  has 
a  pretty  habit  of  lowering  its  voice  to  continue  its  song, 
executing  it  in  a  softened,  subdued  manner,  thus  rendering 
the  performance  scarcely  audible  to  the  listener,  and  all 
the  while  it  proceeds  with  its  occupation  of  picking  insects 
from  the  foliage  near  it,  singing  with  head  lowered  and 
apparently  interested  in  nothing  else  but  its  examination 
of  the  leaves  and  buds.  I  have  mentioned  this  habit  as 
also  characteristic  of  the  prairie  horned  lark  and  the  rose- 
breasted  grosbeak.  The  red-eyed  vireo  also  sings  some- 


Warbling  Vireo.  209 

times  in  the  same  indifferent  manner.  Most  birds  sing 
for  the  sole  sake  of  the  music  they  are  producing,  selecting 
a  perch,  and  with  upright  head  pouring  forth  the  joy  bub- 
bling up  from  the  soul.  The  warbling  vireo,  however, 
sings  about  its  regular  duties  as  the  artless  boy  or  girl 
sings  while  engaged  in  some  pleasing  employment,  as  an 
accompaniment  to  its  ordinary  occupations.  It  carries  this 
trait  so  far  that  it  sings  frequently  while  it  is  sitting  on 
its  nest,  little  regarding  as  drudgery  the  cares  of  rearing 
a  family,  which  many  of  the  birds  appear  to  find  so 
burdensome. 

In  an  article  on  "  Birds  Who  Sing  on  the  Wing,"  in  the 
Oologist  for  March,  1895,  Dr.  Morris  Gibbs  thus  speaks  of 
this  species:  -'The  warbling  vireo,  rarely,  in  a  transport 
of  bliss,  during  the  mating  season,  launches  into  the  air 
while  yet  singing,  and  apparently  forgetful  of  custom, 
strives  to  make  us,  mundane  creatures,  as  happy  as  its 
happy  self." 

The  warbling  vireos  are  regular  residents  of  the  large 
shade  trees  along  our  village  and  city  streets,  and  of  the 
parks  and  groves  of  city  and  country,  where  their  sweet 
and  varied  songs  indicate  their  presence.  I  have  found 
them  especially  abundant  in  the  heavy  groves  of  maple, 
elm,  and  other  trees  which  adorn  the  banks  of  the  rivers, 
growing  on  the  ridge  immediately  between  the  rivers  and 
the  adjacent  swamp-lakes.  There  the  songs  of  these  vireos 
almost  continuously  remind  the  visitor  of  their  abundance, 
and  the  slender,  drooping  twigs  afford  them  desirable  sites 
for  nesting.  They  are  also  found  regularly  in  the  orchards, 
and  no  collection  of  fruit  trees  of  any  size  lacks  its  pair 
of  warbling  vireos.  When  there  are  maples  growing  in 
the  door-yard,  either  in  town  or  country,  the  soft  warbling 
of  these  vireos  delights  the  family.  From  the  door  or 
window  the  children  may  watch  the  movements  of  these 
little  greenlets,  and  frequently  observe  them  construct 
their  hanging  tenements  and  jealously  care  for  their 
growing  family.  Large  maple  trees  appear  to  offer  them 
the  most  congenial  surroundings,  and  where  the  woodlands 
do  not  furnish  such  trees,  they  are  seldom  found  in  abun- 
dance. They  are  quite  at  home  in  the  shady  parks,  for 
they  are  rarely  seen  out  in  the  unobstructed  sunshine. 
14 


210  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

They  prefer  to  spend  their  time  chiefly  in  the  shaded  parts 
of  the  foliage  of  the  tree,  seldom  in  the  lower  portion,  and 
not  often  in  the  highest  parts,  except  on  the  migrations 
and  in  the  later  days  of  their  summer  residence. 

The  movements  of  this  gentle  songster  do  not  often 
attract  attention,  except  when  it  is  nesting  within  view, 
and  it  thus  obtrudes  itself  upon  our  notice.  In  the  tall 
maples  it  is  never  exposed  to  observation,  for  though  it  is 
seldom  at  rest  for  any  time,  its  movements  are  leisurely 
and  composed,  and  its  graceful,  dignified  deportment  is  cer- 
tain to  win  favorable  opinion.  Thomas  Mcllwraith  thus 
writes  of  it  on  this  point:  "It  has  little  excitement  in  its 
nature,  and  keeps  its  usual  composure  under  circumstances 
which  would  drive  most  other  birds  off  in  alarm.  I  once 
saw  one  warbling  forth  its  pleasing  ditty  in  a  shaded  tree, 
quite  close  to  which  a  large  fire  was  in  progress.  Firemen, 
engines,  and  crowds  of  people  were  all  around,  but  the 
bird  was  to  windward  of  the  blaze,  and  seemed  to  be  com- 
menting on  the  unnecessary  excitement  which  prevailed." 

The  warbling  vireo  begins  to  nest  in  this  locality  about 
the  middle  of  May,  and  its  tasty  little  habitation  is  usu- 
ally furnished  with  its  complement  of  eggs  in  the  last 
week  of  the  month.  Nests  with  fresh  eggs  are  also  found 
through  the  most  of  June.  The  site  is  in  one  of  the  trees 
frequented  by  the  birds,  at  a  height  varying  from  seven 
to  forty  feet  from  the  ground,  even  higher  in  exceptional 
instances.  Most  nests  are  situated  between  ten  and  thirty 
feet  from  the  ground,  and  the  structure  is  ordinarily  below 
the  upper  third  of  the  foliage  part  of  the  tree.  The  inva- 
riable location  is  a  horizontal  fork  in  the  twigs  near  the 
extremity  of  a  branch,  the  fork  being  commonly  formed 
by  the  main  branch  and  a  diverging  twig,  and  in  this  site 
the  nest  is  suspended  by  the  brim.  The  pretty,  cozy  affair 
is  made  of  grayish-white  fibers  covering  strips  of  dried 
weed-bark,  and  lined  with  fine  grass  and  a  few  horsehairs. 
The  cavity  is  a  trifle  less  than  two  inches  in  diameter  and 
an  inch  and  one-half  deep.  Various  other  material  in 
small  bits  is  frequently  woven  into  the  nest,  such  as  frag- 
ments of  dried  leaves  and  pieces  of  gossamer  in  flakes, 
and  shreds  from  old  cocoons.  The  eggs  number  three  or 
four,  and  they  have  a  pure  white  ground,  being  specked 


Warbling  Vireo.  211 

irregularly  with  dark  reddish-brown,  sometimes  more 
thickly  at  the  larger  end  with  heavier  spots.  They  are 
about  .75  of  an  inch  in  length  by  .55  in  width. 

Like  the  other  vireos,the  warbling  vireos  do  not  wander 
far  from  their  established  homes,  and  the  nest  of  a  pair 
can  generally  be  located  by  the  regularity  of  their  singing 
in  the  nesting  season.  The  tree  containing  the  nest  can 
usually  be  determined  by  their  incessant  warbling  in  and 
near  it,  and  sometimes  the  nest  itself  can  be  found  by 
tracing  the  music  to  its  source,  for  the  fact  that  these 
birds  frequently  sing  on  the  nest  has  been  mentioned.  I 
found  my  first  nest  of  the  warbling  vireo  in  an  orchard, 
tracing  the  songs  of  the  pair  to  the  tree  and  then  to  the 
nest,  in  which  the  female  was  sitting  lightly,  conversing 
musically  with  her  spouse,  who  was  seated  near  her  and 
warbling  in  response.  Even  when  I  stood  within  a  few 
feet  of  her  she  continued  her  soft  melody,  and  left  the 
nest  only  when  I  made  a  threatening  demonstration. 

These  vireos,  as  well  as  others  of  the  family,  are  exceed- 
ingly watchful  of  the  homes  they  have  swung  among  the 
twigs,  and  they  scold  volubly  at  the  approach  of  friends 
or  foes,  uttering  a  harsh  note  of  anger,  resembling  the 
syllable  "gay."  This  call  of  anger  and  alarm  is  a  key  to 
the  identification  of  the  species,  and  will  aid  to  distinguish 
it  from  the  red-eyed  vireo,  for  the  latter  has  a  scolding 
note,  uttered  in  similar  tone  and  manner,  but  sounding 
more  like  "gway,"  suggesting  to  the  imaginative  observer 
the  words  "go  'way,"  pronounced  in  one  sharp  syllable. 
These  chiding,  angry  notes  of  the  vireos  are  heard  almost 
constantly  in  the  nesting  time  in  the  vicinity  of  their 
nests,  whether  the  intruder  be  a  skulking  blue  jay  intent 
on  mischief,  a  strolling  neighbor  who  happens  to  alight 
near  the  guarded  portals  of  their  home,  or  a  rambling 
ornithologist  desirous  of  knowing  something  of  the  habits 
and  manners  of  his  feathered  friends.  In  fact,  the  scold- 
ing notes  are  uttered  by  the  birds  when  there  is  no  appa- 
rent occasion  for  their  jealousy,  being  heard  more  fre- 
quently as  incubation  and  the  consequent  growth  of  the 
family  adVances.  After  the  eggs  are  hatched,  the  harsh 
scolding  of  the  birds  takes  the  place  of  their  warbling 
almost  entirely.  They  are  fearless  in  defending  their 


212  Sketches  of  Some  Common  -Birds. 

young  from  threatened  harm,  and  marauders  are  pretty 
certain  to  meet  with  a  warm  reception  from  the  diminu- 
tive but  valiant  owners  of  the  premises.  Indeed,  the  best 
opportunity  of  the  observer  to  learn  something  of  their 
appearance  is  when  they  lose  all  thought  of  self  in  the 
defense  of  their  eggs  and  family. 

The  utility  of  the  warbling  vireo  has  never  been  ques- 
tioned, since  its  industrious  care  of  the  branches  and  foli- 
age in  its  resorts  is  so  manifest  that  we  can  only  admire 
the  little  gleaner  so  patiently  and  persistently  seeking  out 
the  hidden  foes  of  the  vegetation.  It  begins  its  praise- 
worthy work  about  the  time  of  the  unfolding  of  the  elm 
buds  and  the  blossoms  of  the  orchard  trees,  and  thence- 
forth'  continues  its  beneficial  services  until  the  changing 
colors  of  the  foliage  suggest  that  its  summer's  occupation 
is  over.  Its  chief  duty  is  to  rid  the  tender  buds  and  the 
bark  of  the  branches  of  destructive  larvse,  leaving  the  ene- 
mies of  the  surface  of  the  leaves  to  the  care  of  the  war- 
blers and  flycatchers.  Quietly  and  unostentatiously  it  goes 
about  its  self-appointed  task,  humming  its  varied  melodies 
as  it  composedly  hops  here  and  there,  wisely  examining 
the  spots  most  likely  to  contain  the  lurking  insects  and 
noxious  larvse,  or  the  concealed  eggs  destined  to  develop 
into  dangerous  and  voracious  enemies  of  the  health  and 
life  of  the  trees.  Its  life  of  continuously  mingled  labor 
and  earnest  song  should  appeal  to  every  lover  of  the  birds 
as  one  of  practical  duty  and  beauty,  marred  by  no  unwor- 
thy action. 


VI.— RAMBLES    THROUGH    THE 
WOODLANDS. 


"  The  softly-warbled  sons 

Comes  from  the  pleasant  woods,  and  colored  wings 
Glance  quick  in  the  bright  sun,  that  moves  along 

The  forest  openings." 

—  LONGFELLOW. 

THE  charm  of  the  woodland  in  the  foliage  season  is 
well-nigh  perennial  in  its  effect  upon  our  nature,  and  is 
somewhat  akin  to  the  virtues  of  the  fabled  fountain  for 
which  the  deluded  Spanish  leader  sought.  In  our  child- 
hood we  eagerly  anticipated  the  pleasures  of  the  day  set 
apart  for  a  ramble  in  the  woods,  and  as  we  grew  older  we 
arranged  to  take  our  outing  regularly,  spending  one  day 
or  more  of  the  season  under  the  magical  influence  of 
nature.  There  we  rested  in  the  shade  of  the  trees  on 
grassy  slopes,  or  culled  the  flowers  seemingly  more  fra- 
grant and  beautiful  than  those  in  our  gardens  at  home. 
There  we  heard  the  voices  of  many  wildwood  songsters 
whose  names  we  never  learned,  but  whose  notes  appear 
familiar  whenever  we  bear  them.  Many  of  the  birds  of 
the  woods  we  knew  at  our  homes  on  the  prairies  and  in 
the  towns.  The  blue  jay,  whose  harsh  cries  and  striking 
colors  call  attention  to  him  wherever  he  goes,  and  whose 
visits  to  the  evergreen  trees  in  our  lawns  and  door-yards 
reveal  his  familiar  disposition,  was  one  of  the  well-known 
friends  we  met  in  the  woods.  There  he  was  in  his  ele- 
ment, garrulous  and  noisy,  flying  here  and  there  in  com- 
pany with  several  of  his  fellows,  all  making  the  woods 
resound  with  their  calls.  The  diminutive  downy  wood- 
pecker, swinging  from  tree  to  tree,  uttering  his  loud 
"plick,"  or  driving  his  sharp  bill  into  the  hard  bark  in 

(213) 


214  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

search  of  a  dinner,  is  also  a  visitor  to  our  yards,  especially 
in  the  winter,  and  he  gleans  many  a  meal  from  the  orchard 
and  door-yard  trees.  The  splendidly  attired  red-headed 
woodpecker,  the  showiest  of  the  woodland  birds,  is  a  typi- 
cal representative  of  the  residents  of  the  orchard,  for  it  is 
equally  at  home  in  either  place.  The  rose-breasted  gros- 
beak, one  of  our  friends  of  the  highway  and  door-yard, 
is  primarily  a  native  of  the  woodlands,  and  there  along 
the  shaded  streams  his  sweetest  songs  can  be  heard.  In 
the  woods  along  the  bushy  borders  of  the  stream-sides 
also  sing  the  song  sparrow,  the  indigo  bunting,  the  Mary- 
land yellow-throat,  the  catbird,  the  redbird,  the  Baltimore 
oriole,  and  the  towhee.  There  the  warbling  vireo  repeats 
his  sweet,  plaintive  monologue  throughout  the  day,  and 
the  red-eyed  vireo  continually  addresses  his  hearers  in 
his  most  emphatic  tones.  The  guttural  croaking  of  the 
cuckoos  indicates  their  abundance,  and  the  harsh  calls  of 
the  grackle  inform  us  that  this  ubiquitous  species  is 
especially  at  home.  There  the  limpid,  flute- like  notes  of 
the  wood  thrush  announce  its  presence  in  the  shady 
glens,  and  the  querulous  calls  of  the  crested  flycatcher  in 
the  treetops  regularly  attract  the  ear  of  the  visitor.  The 
yellow-breasted  chat  whistles  from  the  bushes,  and  the 
mourning  dove  flutters  from  its  simple  mat  of  dried  twigs 
as  we  pass  near  its  vicinity.  None  of  the  foregoing  spe- 
cies are  confined  to  the  woods,  but  some  of  them  move 
and  sing  with  greatest  animation  in  woodland  resorts, 
and  while  we  can  form  acquaintance  with  them  in  town 
and  about  our  rural  residences,  we  can  know  them  best 
by  rambling  through  their  original  environments  and 
observing  their  behavior  uninfluenced  by  changed  sur- 
roundings. 

WOOD  THEUSH. 

My  acquaintance  with  the  wood  thrush  began  many 
years  ago,  in  a  portion  of  a  "woods  pasture"  thickly 
grown,  with  hazel,  wild  gooseberry  and  blackberry  bushes, 
small  thorn  trees,  wild  plum,  and  other  dwarf  trees,  all 
forming  a  thicket  so  dense  that  one  could  force  his  way 
through  it  only  with  difficulty.  Through  the  midst  of 


YOUNG   WOOD   THRUSHES    IN    NEST. 

From  life.     After  Shufeldt. 


Wood  Thrush.  215 

this  wood  flowed  a  creek  whose  waters  became  quite 
shallow  before  the  close  of  the  summer,  and  whose  banks 
were  overhung  by  long,  horizontal  branches  of  sturdy 
hard  maples,  soft  maples,  and  elms.  In  this  wild  retreat, 
through  the  mating  and  nesting  season,  the  clear  ringing 
notes  of  the  wood  thrushes  arose  from  dawn  till  dusk,  the 
birds  flitting  here  and  there  in  the  gloomy  shade,  and 
living  the  ideal  life  of  true  woodsmen.  In  the  low  thorn 
trees  and  on  the  drooping  boughs  of  the  hard  maples  they 
made  their  homes  and  reared  their  broods,  unmolested 
except  by  such  natural  enemies  as  instinct  warned  them  to 
evade.  I  met  them  in  town  also  on  their  fall  and  spring 
migration,  among  the  garden  trees  and  upon  the  grassy 
lawns,  and  along  the  hedgerows  of  suburban  homes. 

In  respect  to  the  route  of  migration,  the  wood  thrush 
differs  from  the  hermit  thrush,  which  makes  its  migratory 
journeys  through  the  woods,  and  commonly  shuns  the 
towns.  The  wood  thrush  does  not  appear  to  turn  aside 
from  the  towns  for  its  places  of  refreshment  on  its  north- 
ward and  southward  journeys.  Whenever  I  met  it,  it 
was  usually  alone,  and  I  therefore  concluded  that  it  is  not 
disposed  to  seek  company  even  among  its  own  kith  and 
kin.  Since  I  learned  to  recognize  its  trim,  graceful  figure, 
and  its  short,  quick  call,  I  have  remarked  the  wood  thrush 
in  my  native  village,  in  the  large  elms  and  maples  along 
the  streets,  even  to  the  last  of  June,  usually  solitary,  and 
frequently  silent,  except  in  its  note  of  alarm.  It  is  not 
always  silent  in  town,  however,  and  in  May  its  perfect 
song  can  often  be  heard.  When  the  growth  of  bard  maples 
in  the  cities  and  the  shady  nooks  of  parks  induce  it  to 
take  up  its  summer  residence,  its  flate-like  music  is  heard 
regularly  in  all  its  richness  and  melody.  It  is  peculiarly 
at  home  in  the  dark,  deep  woodlands  of  our  river  bottoms, 
where  it  pours  out  its  few  notes  with  surpassing  sweetness 
and  richness  of  quality,  inimitable  by  other  birds,  and 
faulty  only  in  the  briefness  of  the  strains. 

It  is  perhaps  true  that  few  persons,  except  the  trained 
observers  of  bird-life,  know  the  wood  thrush,  though  many 
people  have  heard  its  melodious  voice  and  recognize  it  as 
belonging  to  our  deeper  woodland  choir.  It  should  have 
a  wider  circle  of  acquaintance,  for  in  the  parks  of  cities 


216  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

it  can  be  seen  and  studied.  There  it  discovers  most  of  the 
traits  which  we  commend,  and  there  it  warbles  its  silvery 
phrases.  That  most  people  are  unfamiliar  with  it  is  per- 
haps attributable  to  its  contemplative  and  solitary  dispo- 
sition, though  when  migrating,  and  when  living  in  the 
parks  of  cities,  or  the  inviting  parts  of  the  smaller  towns, 
it  seems  to  forget  somewhat  of  its  woodland  shyness,  and 
will  eit  calmly  while  its  more  apparent  characteristics  are 
noted.  In  spring  I  Lave  seen  it  even  approach  the  space 
around  the  kitchen  door,  hopping  about  in  search  either 
of  food  or  nest  materials,  with  the  easy  familiarity  of  the 
robin  or  the  chipping  sparrow.  One  that  was  making  a 
nest  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood  one  spring  made 
regular  trips  to  our  kitchen  door-yard,  and  there  picked 
up  strings,  rags,  and  paper,  which  it  fancied  would  add 
to  the  appearance  or  firmness  of  the  structure.  In  the 
introductory  paragraph  of  the  chapter  on  "  Friends  of  the 
Highway  and  Door-yard,"  reference  has  been  made  to 
the  familiarity  of  this  species  when  living  in  towns  and 
cities. 

While  there  is  nothing  striking  in  the  appearance  of 
the  wood  thrush,  its  dress  is  neat  and  strictly  in  accord 
with  its  retiring  disposition  and  habits  of  seclusion.  Its 
upper  parts  are  bright  tawny  cinnamon-brown,  deepest 
on  the  head,  and  becoming  olivaceous  on  the  lower  back 
and  tail.  Its  lower  parts  are  almost  pure  white,  with  the 
breast  and  sides  marked  with  many  large  blackish  spots, 
and  a  tinge  of  buff  on  the  breast.  The  bill  is  dark  brown, 
paler  at  its  base,  thus  corresponding  with  its  pale-brown 
feet.  It  is  the  tawny  brown  of  the  upper  parts  that  gives 
to  the  species  its  name  of  mustelinus,  meaning  weasel-like 
in  color. 

This  woodland  songster  has  an  extensive  range,  its 
habitat  being  all  of  eastern  United  States  and  British 
Provinces  in  summer.  For  the  winter  it  passes  out  of 
these  regions  into  Cuba,  Mexico,  and  southern  North 
America.  It  appears  in  this  locality  early  in  April,  the 
earliest  date  of  its  arrival  recorded  in  my  journal  being 
April  9,  1883.  Its  southern  migration  from  this  latitude 
occurs  in  the  last  week  in  September,  or  the  first  week 
of  October. 


Wood   Thrush.  217 

Simeon  Pease  Cheny,  writing  upon  "  Bird  Music,"  in 
the  Century  Magazine  for  June,  1888,  says  concerning  the 
song  of  the  wood  thrush:  "This  is  probably  the  most 
popular  singer  of  all  the  thrushes.  He  may  be  heard  at 
any  hour  of  the  day  during  the  mating  and  nesting  season, 
but  his  best  performances  are  at  morning  and  evening. 
While  his  melodies  are  not  so  varied  as  those  of  the  brown 
or  those  of  the  hermit  thrush,  they  are  exquisite,  the 
quality  of  the  tone  being  indescribably  beautiful  and 
fascinating."  The  favorite  position  of  the  songster  is  near 
the  top  of  the  larger  willows,  or  cottonwoods,  or  any  of 
the  larger  trees,  from  which  his  warbles  ring  forth  with  the 
clearness  of  silver  bells,  repeated  at  intervals  for  many 
minutes.  In  the  most  favored  resorts  in  the  river  bottoms, 
several  voices  can  generally  be  heard  at  the  same  time,  and 
the  effect  is  comparable  to  the  ringing  of  several  neigh- 
boring church  bells,  correspondingly  reduced  in  loudness 
and  volume.  Among  the  bushes  and  lower  growth  the 
wood  thrush  has  other  notes,  the  most  usual  one  being  a 
single  "quiert,"  uttered  in  one  syllable,  and  used  as  an 
alarm  note.  I  have  frequently  heard  two  individuals, 
who  were  some  distance  apart,  carry  on  an  animated  con- 
versation by  using  something  like  the  syllable  "quee," 
repeated  four  or  five  times  very  rapidly,  a  peculiar  call 
unlike  that  of  any  other  bird  of  my  acquaintance. 

In  regard  to  the  food  habits  of  the  wood  thrush,  I  refer 
to  the  reports  of  Prof.  S.  A.  Forbes,  who  states  that  this 
species  seems  to  do  more  good  and  less  harm  than  the 
robin,  catbird,  and  brown  thrasher,  having  the  lowest 
fruit  ratio  and  eating  the  highest  number  of  insects,  with 
only  the  average  of  predaceous  species.  Its  advances, 
therefore,  are  to  be  cordially  encouraged  by  the  gardener 
and  farmer — a  fact  which  must  be  especially  agreeable  to 
every  lover  of  bird  music  who  has  learned  to  recognize 
the  full,  clear,  rich,  and  exquisite  strains  of  this  songster. 

In  its  nidification  the  wood  thrush  indicates  the  rela- 
tionship existing  between  it  and  the  robin,  their  nests  and 
eggs  being  quite  similar.  The  eggs  of  the  wood  thrush 
can  be  distinguished  from  those  of  the  robin  only  by  their 
smaller  size,  but  the  differences  between  the  nests  are 
more  apparent  when  examined  in  detail.  The  wood  thrush 


218  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

sometimes  selects  a  site  in  thorny  bushes  and  scrubby  or 
thorny  trees.  A  favorite  site  is  a  horizontal  branch  of 
hard  maple,  near  the  middle  point  of  the  branch.  A  fork 
of  a  sapling  in  partially  cleared  regions  is  a  very  common 
situation  for  the  nest,  and  a  bough  or  sapling  bent  over 
toward  the  ground  is  frequently  made  the  location  of  a 
home.  It  is  generally  placed  at  distances  varying  from 
five  to  fifteen  feet  from  the  ground. 

Nidification  occurs  in  the  first  week  of  May,  and  the 
nests  are  usually  furnished  with  full  sets  of  eggs  by  the 
middle  of  the  month.  A  typical  nest  of  the  wood  thrush 
is  three  and  one-half  by  three  and  one-fourth  inches  across 
the  cavity,  and  two  and  one-fourth,  inches  deep.  The 
foundation  is  made  of  dried  leaves  and  coarse  stems.  The 
walls  are  made  of  muddy,  decayed  vegetable  materials, 
and  soft  punk,  which  form  a  sort' of  "papier-mache" 
composition  when  dried.  The  cavity  is  lined  with  rootlets 
and  soft  stems,  somewhat  scantily,  the  rootlets  being  simi- 
lar to  those  used  by  the  brown  thrasher  and  catbird  in 
their  nests.  The  eggs  are  either  four  or  five,  and  are 
greenish -blue,  unspotted,  averaging  1.02  by  .75  of  an  inch. 

John  Burroughs,  in  bis  "  The  Tragedies  of  the  Nests," 
writes  as  follows  concerning  the  nesting  of  this  species: 
"  There  is  no  nest-builder  that  suffers  more  from  crows 
and  squirrels  and  other  enemies  than  the  wood  thrush. 
It  builds  as  openly  and  unsuspiciously  as  if  it  thought  the 
whole  world  as  honest  as  itself.  Its  favorite  place  is  the 
fork  of  a  sapling,  eight  or  ten  feet  from  the  ground,  where 
it  falls  an  easy  prey  to  every  nest-robber  that  comes 
prowling  through,  the  woods  and  groves.  It  is  not  a  bird 
that  skulks  and  hides,  like  the  catbird,  the  brown  thrasher, 
the  chat,  or  the  chewink,  and  its  nest  is  not  concealed 
with  the  same  art  as  theirs.  Our  thrushes  are  all  frank, 
open-mannered  birds;  but  the  veery  and  the  hermit  build 
upon  the  ground,  where  they  at  least  escape  the  crows, 
owls,  and  jays,  and  stand  a  better  chance  to  be  overlooked 
by  the  red  squirrel  and  weasel  also;  while  the  robin  seeks 
the  protection  of  dwellings  and  out- buildings.  For  years 
I  have  not  known  the  nest  of  a  wood  thrush  to  succeed. 
During  the  season  referred  to,  I  observed  but  two,  both 
apparently  a  second  attempt,  as  the  season  was  well  ad- 
vanced, and  both  failures." 


Wood  Thrush.  219 

In  this  section  these  birds  do  not  fare  so  unfortunately 
at  the  hands  of  their  enemies.  During  the  last  week  of 
Juno,  1896,  while  enjoying  an  outing  along  the  Illinois 
-River,  my  attention  was  attracted  to  the  numbers  of  young 
wood  thrushes  which  flitted  among  tho  lower  branches  of 
the  trees  as  we  rambled  along  the  bank,  and  their  robin- 
like  calls  of  alarm  were  regular  accompaniments  of  our 
progress.  The  young  of  both  the  wood  thrush  and  robin 
have  nearly  similar  calls,  and  do  not  differ  much  in  their 
nest  plumage.  Keeping  more  out  of  sight,  the  older 
birds  Tittered  their  incomparable  warbles,  apparently 
rejoicing  in  the  fact  that  their  nestlings  had  escaped  the 
dangers  incident  to  rearing  a  family  in  wildwood  sur- 
roundings. I  have  found  many  nests  in  this  locality  con- 
taining young  partially  fledged,  and  from  the  abundance 
of  the  birds  in  suitable  localities,  I  am  of  the  opinion  that 
most  of  tho  nests  hereabout  are  successful  in  their  issue. 
It  is  probable  that  two  broods  are  reared  by  most  pairs, 
as  tho  nesting  season  is  extended  until  the  last  of  June, 
from  which  time  the  fascinating  warbles  are  heard  no 
more. 

Tho  chief  obstacle  to  the  increase  of  tho  wood  thrush 
in.  this  region  is  tho  regular  imposition  of  tho  cowbird  in 
placing  its  eggs  in  the  nest  of  the  woodland  songster. 
The  first  nest  of  the  wood  thrush  1  ever  found  contained 
four  eggs  of  tho  owner  and  two  of  tho  parasite;  and  it 
seemed  likely  that  tho  two  strangers  would  be  able  ta 
absorb  the  most  of  tho  care  and  attention  of  the  parents 
to  the  neglect  and  injury  of  the  true  offspring.  The 
majority  of  nests  of  the  wood  thrush  I  have  examined 
contained  one  or  more  eggs  of  the  cowbird,  and  the 
careful  mothers  were  brooding  them  with  their  own  as 
faithfully  as  tho  parasite  could  desire.  Are  the  birds 
easily  deluded,  or  do  they  resign  themselves  to  become 
foster-parents  of  the  young  cowbirds,  and  thus  quietly 
accept  the  conditions  as  apparently  inevitable? 

Like  tho  robins  and  other  birds  generally,  tho  wood 
thrushes  become  more  shy  and  retiring  as  fall  approaches. 
They  can  be  observed  early  in  the  morning  and  before 
dusk  in  the  evening  feeding  on  the  wild  grapes  and  ber- 
ries so  abundant  in  tho  autumn  in  the  woods.  At  this 


220  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

season  their  deportment  is  very  similar  to  that  of  the 
robins,  and  indeed  the  species  is  known  in  some  localities 
as  the  "wood  robin,"  the  robin  of  the  wood.  They  are  to 
bo  observed  much  of  their  time  on  the  ground  and  among 
the  bushes  and  shrubbery,  and  it  is  probable  that  like  the 
robin,  they  take  a  large  share  of  their  food  from  the 
ground,  perhaps  taking  all  their  insect  food  in  this  man- 
ner. They  do  not  ordinarily  take  long  flights,  but  flit 
from  the  ground  to  the  lower  branches  of  a  tree,  and 
then  to  another  tree,  always  keeping  well  away  from  the 
observer,  and  soon  disappearing  behind  the  foliage  of  an 
intervening  bush,  or  in  some  sheltering  tree.  A  favor- 
able place  to  watch  their  movements  is  in  some  secluded 
ravine  through  which  wanders  a  little  stream,  from 
which  they  can  elake  their  thirst,  and  in  which  they 
can  perform  their  ablutions  in  the  middle  of  the  warm 
summer  afternoons. 


CKBSTE1)  FLYCATCHER. 

In  our  rambles  through  the  woodlands  we  shall  cer- 
tainly see  and  hear  the  crested  flycatcher,  for  it  is  no  less 
noisy  and  loquacious  than  the  jay,  attracting  attention 
almost  continually  by  its  loud  calls  and  restless  move- 
ments. Though  one  of  the  most  abundant  species  of  its 
family,  and  as  likely  to  attract  notice  as  the  kingbird,  the 
<jrested  flycatcher  is  perhaps  the  least  known  of  its  group. 
Its  pronounced  preference  for  the  wooded  regions  serves 
to  keep  it  away  from  the  society  of  man,  as  a  rule,  and 
hence  its  presence  is  overlooked  in  localities  where  it  is 
probably  more  abundant  than  the  kingbird.  However, 
there  are  notable  exceptions  to  its  preference  for  the 
woodlands,  for  frequently  a  pair  will  become  attached  to 
some  particular  neighborhood  in  suburbs,  and  at  irregular 
intervals  their  loud,  querulous  notes  can  be  heard  through 
the  day  until  the  first  of  July.  Especially  in  the  morning 
is  it  noisy  and  demonstrative,  flitting  restlessly  about 
over  the  neighborhood,  and  calling  loudly  to  its  mate  irom 
favorite  high  perches. 

Noisy  and  attractive  as  it  is,  even  many  who  should 


Crested  Flycatcher.  221 

have  formed  its  acquaintance  in  the  woods  seem  to  be 
unaware  of  its  existence.  Though  a  rambler  through  the 
woods  since  my  early  boyhood,  I  never  identified  the 
crested  flycatcher  until  early  in  1894.  Having  identified 
it,  however,  I  was  acquainted  with  it  at  once,  for  its  voice 
had  its  place  in  the  familiar  wildwood  medley,  and  I 
recalled  many  of  its  traits  and  habits  which  I  bad  not 
associated  with  its  name.  It  is  a  handsome  bird,  about 
the  size  of  the  kingbird,  and  its  relation  to  the  latter  is 
manifested  by  many  similar  characteristics.  The  greenish- 
olive  of  the  upper  parts,  the  bright  sulphur  yellow  of  the 
under  parts,  and  the  crest  which  it  erects  occasionally  in 
its  excited  moments,  will  enable  the  interested  student  ta 
identify  it.  Indeed,  it  appears  to  be  an  overgrown  pewee, 
and  persons  who  know  the  wood  pewee  should  not  be 
slow  in  identifying  the  crested  flycatcher. 

In  the  woods  the  crested  flycatchers  generally  perch  on 
dead,  bare  limbs,  often  quite  nigh,  and  generally  near  the 
top  of  the  tree.  They  occupy  a  higher  plane  in  life  than 
the  little  wood  pewees,  calling  to  their  mates  with  "shrill, 
querulous,  whistling  notes."  While  selecting  their  nesting 
sites  they  are  especially  noisy,  and  as  they  visit  every 
available  or  probable  site  in  the  neighborhood,  their  pro- 
ceedings are  very  likely  to  receive  notice.  No  piece  of 
woodland  harbori  ng  a  pair  of  these  birds  can  become  lonely, 
though  I  have  found  them  least  noisy  in  the  vicinity  of 
their  nests.  In  other  words,  the  nest  is  not  usually  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  place  where  they  are  most  loquacious. 
Nor  do  they  prefer  the  more  open  portions  of  the  woods; 
but  secluded  ravines  and  the  more  primeval  parts  of  the 
forest,  where  the  wood  thrush  utters  bis  inimitable  melody, 
and  the  nuthatch  finds  seclusion  for  its  home,  are  the 
favorite  resorts  of  the  crested  flycatcher. 

This  species,  like  a  few  others,  seems  to  bo  influenced 
by  the  advance  of  civilization,  and,  affected  by  the  inevi- 
table destruction  of  its  natural  haunts,  is  extending  its 
quarters  to  more  cultivated  regions.  Its  nesting  in  or- 
chards and  in  nooks  of  outbuildings  is  now  nothing  uncom- 
mon. It  makes  itself  perfectly  at  home  about  the  farmer's 
door-yard,  and  acts  as  though  the  recesses  and  cavities 
about  the  porch  or  kitchen  had  been  made  especially  for 


222  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

its  accommodation.  Frequently  a  pair  will  take  a  fancy 
to  the  box  erected  for  the  purple  martins  or  bluebirds, 
and  will  establish  a  home  in  the  location  without  looking 
further,  retaining  possession  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances 
of  other  claimants.  .Robert  Kidgway  says :  "At  Mt.  Car- 
mel  several  pairs  nested  every  summer  inside  the  town 
limits,  and  one  pair  raised  a  brood  in  a  nest  which  was 
built  in  a  window  corner  of  the  county  jail,  a  brick  build- 
ing in  the  very  center  of  the  town."* 

Like  their  better  known  cousins,  the  kingbirds,  the 
crested  flycatchers  have  domineering  airs  and  strong 
pugilistic  tendencies,  though  they  discover  these  traits 
less  toward  the  larger  than  the  smaller  birds  of  their 
neighborhood,  and  less  toward  others  than  their  own  fel- 
lows. Yet  they  are  quarrelsome  enough  among  them- 
selves, especially  in  the  ma-ting  period.  Always  in  their 
companionship  they  display  an  irritable  disposition,  and 
their  angry  contentions  are  characteristic  of  woodland 
life.  Colonel  Goss  says  of  them:  "They  fight  fiercely  for 
a  mate,  and  they  have  a  habit  that  I  have  not  noticed  in 
other  birds,  of  plucking,  if  possible,  the  tail  feathers  of  a 
rival,  in  order  to  disfigure  him  so  that  be  will  not  be 
looked  upon  with  favor  by  the  opposite  sex ;  and  when 
lucky  enough  to  pull  a  feather,  it  is  amusing  to  see  them 
fuss  over  it,  picking,  pulling,  in  fact  fighting  it,  forgetting 
for  a  time  the  owner,  in  their  exultation  over  the  capture." 
When,  angered,  they  erect  their  crests  so  that  they  are 
prominently  shown,  and  they  display  all  the  reckless 
bravery  of  the  kingbirds,  though  they  are  not  so  tenacious 
in  following  up  their  attacks.  Nor  do  they  swoop  down 
upon  their  enemy  from  above,  as  the  kingbirds  do,  but 
they  make  a  direct  attack,  scolding  loudly  in  their  quer- 
ulous manner. 

True  to  the  habits  of  its  family,  the  crested  flycatcher 
takes  most  of  its  food,  which  in  the  early  part  of  the 
season  consists  chiefly  of  insects,  while  on  the  wing.  Its 
flight  is  stronger  and  more  rapid  than  that  oHhe  kingbird; 
and  since  it  usually  perches  higher  than  that  species,  it 
dashes  downward  or  outward  to  capture  its  prey.  Keep- 
ing rather  high  in  the  trees,  with  quick  turns  and  dashes 

*  Natural  History  Survey  of  Illinois,  Yol.  1. 


Crested  Flycatcher.  223 

it  seizes  flying  insects  with  loud,  voracious  snaps  of  its 
bill.  It  also  takes  many  insects  from  the  leaves  while 
flying  among  the  foliage,  quickly  turning  in  air  with 
flashing  wings  to  preserve  its  balance  ere  alighting,  usu- 
ally on  a  different  perch  from  the  starting  point.  In  pro- 
curing a  meal  it  displays  greater  activity  than  the  king- 
bird, frequently  flitting  out  and  snapping  insects  from  the 
leaves  after  the  fashion  of  the  redstart  and  other  warblers. 
When  it  desires  to  take  an  insect  from  a  leaf,  even  if  its 
prey  bo  within  reach,  it  prefers  to  hover,  and  while  thus 
on  the  wing  snap  it  from  its  place.  In  the  fall  the  crested 
flycatcher  is  said  to  feed  on  the  grapes  and  berries  to  be 
found  abundantly  in  the  woods. 

Nidification  is  begun  by  this  flycatcher  about  the  first 
of  June.  Though  I  have  frequently  looked  earlier  for 
nests,  I  never  found  them  before  June.  The  regular  sites 
are  natural  hollows  in  stumps  and  trees,  and  the  cavities 
made  by  woodpeckers,  generally  between  five  and  twenty 
feet  from  the  ground,  but  often  in  the  denuded  tops 
of  high  trees.  Once  I  found  a  nest  in  the  top  of  a  dead 
tree  sixty-five  feet  from  the  ground.  Its  nesting  in  orchards 
has  been  noticed,  and  it  frequently  takes  possession  of  the 
boxes  arranged  for  the  bluebirds  or  martins,  or  appropri- 
ate nooks  about  dwellings.  It  uses  dried  leaves  and  grass, 
strips  of  bark,  weed  fibers,  feathers,  and  bunches  of  rabbit 
and  cow  hair  for  building  materials,  the  last  three  serving 
as  lining.  Among  the  component  parts  of  the  nest  are 
nearly  always  found  pieces  of  cast-off  snake  skin.  One 
summer  day,  a  younger  companion  who  was  exploring  an 
orchard  with  me  in  search  of  cological  treasures,  after 
drawing  himself  up  to  look  into  a  cavity,  slipped  back 
quickly,  and  taking  hold  of  a  small  stick,  began  to  prod 
vigorously  into  the  recess.  Observing  his  excited  actions, 
I  asked  an  explanation.  He  said,  "Why,  there's  a  snake 
in  there."  After  further  examination,  however,  he  found 
only  a  large  piece  of  sloughed  skin,  beyond  which  were 
four  eggs  of  the  crested  flycatcher. 

The  cavity  selected  is  usually  well  filled  with  the  chosen 
materials,  which  are  brought  in  large  mouthfuls  by  both 
birds  with  noisy  procedure.  The  average  complement 
consists  of  four  eggs,  though  five  and  even  six  eggs  are 


224  Sketches  of  Some  Common   Birds. 

found.  Concerning  them,  Mr.  Davie  says:  "The  eggs  are 
remarkable  in  their  coloration,  having  a  ground  of  buffy- 
brown,  streaked  longitudinally  by  lines  sharp  and  scratchy 
in  style,  and  markings  of  purple  and  darker  brown; 
four  to  six  in  number;  average  size,  .82  by  .62.  The 
smallest  egg  selected  from  one  hundred,  specimens  meas- 
ures .76  by  .62;  the  largest,  .93  by  .70.  The  eggs  are  so 
peculiar  in  their  style  of  markings  that  they  may  be  easily 
identified,  and  all  the  eggs  of  the  North  American  species 
of  the  genus  Myiarchus  are  alike  ia  character." 

The  noisiest  periods  in  the  summer  life  of  the  crested, 
flycatchers  are  when  they  are  mating,  and  when  the  young 
are  learning  to  provide  for  themselves  and  to  procure 
their  living.  The  first  lessons  of  the  youngsters  in  catch- 
ing insects  are  conducted  by  the  anxious  parents  with 
vociferous  and  repeated  illustrations,  and  the  novices 
receive  much  shrill  advice  as  to  how  the  thing  should  be 
done.  As  the  broods  are  late  in  leaving  their  nests,  the 
shrill  calls  and  cries  are  heard  until  late  in  July,and  their 
activity  does  much  to  enliven  the  dull  woods  at  a  time 
when  most  other  species  are  skulking  and  silent  during 
the  moulting  period.  "Usually  a  second  brood  or  late 
family  of  wood  pewoes  can  be  heard  and  seen  in  the 
vicinity,  and  the  likenesses  and  differences  of  the  two 
related  species  can  be  observed  to  advantage.  The  crested 
flycatchers  leave  us  some  time  in  the  first  two  weeks  of 
September,  their  loud,  shrill,  but  not  disagreeable  whistles, 
and  their  animated,  restless  movements  having  filled  a 
place  in  their  forest  home  which  must  remain  vacant  until 
their  return  with  the  leaves  of  the  hardwood  trees  in  the 
following  season. 

The  crested  flycatcher  makes  its  summer  home  in  east- 
ern United  States  to  the  Connecticut  Valley  inclusive,  and 
to  the  edge  of  the  great  plains,  ranging  northward  to 
Manitoba.  It  retires  to  pass  the  winter  in  eastern  Mexico, 
Gruatamala,  and  adjacent  regions.  It  commonly  makes  its 
appearance  in  central  Illinois  in  the  third  week  of  April, 
arriving  as  a  rule  a  few  days  later  than  the  kingbird.  Its 
vociferous  cries  immediately  inform  the  interested  observer 
of  its  advent,  and  its  restless  movements  make  it  conspic- 
uous among  the  wood  birds.  As  has  been  stated,  however, 
it  is  somehow  overlooked  by  indifferent  persons. 


NEST  AND  YOUNG  OF  WOOD  PEWEE. 

From  life.    After  Shjifeldl. 


Wood   Pewee.  225 


WOOD  PEW  RE. 

With  most  persons  knowledge  of  many  of  the  birds  is 
only  negative.  They  seldom  give  extended  notice  to  the 
movements  and  manners  of  the  birds,  but  they  readily  feel 
that  something  is  lacking  when  certain  birds  are  absent 
from  any  neighborhood  or  locality  where  such  birds  are 
ordinarily  seen  and  heard.  Some  birds  of  plain  attire 
are  so  perfectly  in  accord  with  their  surroundings  that 
their  presence  is  oftener overlooked  than  observed.  When 
they  are  absent,  however,  from  their  accustomed  haunts,  or 
from,  places  where  we  should  naturally  expect  them  to  be 
abundant,  we  intuitively  feel  the  incompleteness  of  our 
surroundings,  even  when  we  are  not  able  to  describe  the 
missing  features.  Such  is  the  common  knowledge  con- 
cerning the  modest  little  wood  pewee.  No  feature  of  its 
plain,  attire  attracts  the  eye;  no  unseemly  or  demonstra- 
tive action  in  its  behavior  brings  it  conspicuously  before 
our  notice. 

"It  is  a  wee,  sad-colored  tiling, 
As  ghy  and  secret  as  a  maid, ' 

and  it  is  so  closely  assimilated  with  its  somber  environ- 
ments in  the  "twilight  noon"  of  the  forest,  that  except 
as  its  sweet,  plaintive  call  reaches  our  ear,  the  little  fly- 
catcher is  likely  to  be  unobserved.  To  the  earnest  and 
sympathetic  lover  of  nature,  however,  the  wood  pewee 
appeals  for  its  share  of  friendship,  and  discovers  traits 
which  awaken  lively  interest. 

All  the  flycatchers  have  a  decided  family  resemblance, 
and  hence  the  wood  pewee  has  not  been  clearly  distin- 
guished from  its  congeners  at  all  times,  it  being  especially 
confounded  with  the  phcebo  by  superficial  observers.  The 
green -crested  fl)Tcatcher  and  Traill's  flycatcher,  however, 
bear  stronger  resemblances  to  the  wood  pewee  than  does 
the  phcebe.  Yet  there  is  slight  ground  for  confusion  of 
the  different  species,  for  each  of  the  four  has  well-defined 
haunts  and  characteristic  manners,  which  serve  clearly  to 
identify  each  and  separate  it  from  its  relatives.  While 
the  phcebe  prefers  the  streamsides  and  the  vicinity  of  old 
bridges,  buildings  and  wells,  the  wood  pewee  chooses  the 
15 


226  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Jlirds. 

secluded  parts  of  orchards,  and  the  forest  areas  somewhat 
away  from  the  bank  of  the  stream.  The  phoabe  seldom 
enters  the  limits  of  the  towns  or  villages  to  find  a  site  for 
its  home,  while  the  wood  pewee  often  establishes  its 
dwelling  on  the  branches  of  the  elms  and  other  trees 
overhanging  the  sidewalk  in  the  shady  parts  of  the  vil- 
lages and  cities.  Eobert  Ridgway  tells  us:  "The  notes  of 
the  two  species  are  as  different  as  their  habits,  those  of  the 
wood  pewee  being  peculiarly  plaintive — a  sort  of  wailing 
p-e-e-e-e-i,  wee,  the  first  syllable  emphasized  and  long 
drawn  out,  and  the  tone  a  clear,  plaintive,  wiry  whistle, 
strikingly  different  from  the  cheerful,  emphatic  notes  of 
the  true  pewee." 

The  summer  home  of  the  wood  poweo  is  eastern  United 
States  and  British  Provinces,  ranging  westward  to  the 
great  plains,"and  in  some  instances  to  Manitoba.  It  win- 
ters in  eastern  Mexico  and  in  Central  America.  On  its 
northward  journey  in  the  spring  it  enters  Illinois  gener- 
ally in  the  last  week  of  April,  though  in  1895  I  noted  the 
first  wood  pewee  at  Yirden,  Illinois,  on  April  6th.  Imme- 
diately after  its  arrival  its  plaintive,  dreamy  calls  can  bo 
heard,  and  they  are  continued  in  its  regular  resorts  until 
the  early  part  of  August.  Its  pensive  notes  are  often  heard 
late  in  the  evening,  long  after  other  birds  have  lapsed  into 
quiescence.  As  late  as  ten  or  eleven  o'clock,  when  the 
bird  is  sitting  on  its  nest,  or  perched  on  a  branch  near  its 
mate  on  the  nest,  its  sweet  voice  floats  out  in  the  still 
night  air,  probably  as  an  endearing  call  to  inform  its  mate 
of  its  nearness,  or  to  reassure  itself  of  the  other's  watchful 
protection,  as  the  child  frequently  calls  to  its  parent  in  the 
night  to  reassure  itself  of  the  loving  father  or  mother's 
faithful  guardianship.  The  "rain-crow,"  or  yellow-billed 
cuckoo,  the  confiding  chipping  sparrow,  and  some  other 
common  birds,  have  this  habit  of  uttering  their  calls  after 
the  regular  hours  of  bird  activity. 

The  wood  pewee  is  fond  of  a  particular  perch  for  its  ac- 
customed headquarters,  commonly  near  the  extremity  of  a 
dead  branch  in  the  lower  part  of  a  tree,  though  sometimes 
it  chooses  a  branch  near  or  above  the  middle  of  the  height 
of  the  tree.  Its  fondness  for  a  particular  station,  either 
high  or  low  in  the  tree:  is  readily  observed,  and  its  nest 


Wood  Pewee.  227 

is  commonly  located  near  its  accustomed  porch,  if  the 
nesting  season  is  at  its  height.  There  it  will  sit  almost 
motionless  waiting  for  a  passing  insect,  occasionally  turn- 
ing its  head  to  sweep  the  view  on  either  side.  On  per- 
ceiving a  fly,  beetle,  or  other  luckless  insect  winging  its 
way  through  the  air  near  its  perch,  it  will  fly  out  and 
attempt  to  capture  it  with  a  quick  snap  of  its  bill,  often 
making  several  attempts,  or  captures,  before  returning  to 
its  seat.  It  will  sometimes  make  many  sallies  into  the 
air  in  a  short  time,  and  frequently  appears  to  turn  com- 
pletely in  the  air,  so  rapidly  and  abruptly  does  it  turn 
after  attempting  a  capture.  It  is  probable  that  it  makes 
many  unsuccessful  dashes  after  prey,  as  the  kingfisher 
makes  many  bootless  plunges  into  the  water  in  its  pursuit 
of  fish.  I  once  observed  a  wood  pewee  make  more  than 
thirty  sallies  from,  one  perch,  a  low  dead  branch  in  a  large 
silver  maple  in  town,  and  when  I  left  the  spot  the  pewee 
was  still  on  the  limb  waiting  for  passing  insects.  The 
pewee  seldom  flies  upward  as  does  the  kingbird,  but  usu- 
ally flies  outward,  though  it  sometimes  rises  as  it  dashes 
outward  to  strike  the  line  of  flight  of  its  quarry. 

Individuals  of  this  species  seem  to  have  little  desire  to 
associate  with  their  fellows  or  with  other  species.  In  the 
somber  portions  of  the  forest  which  they  frequent,  and  in 
the  secluded  parts  of  the  orchards  where  they  dwell,  they 
seek  solitude.  The  woods  bordering  the  streams  and  in 
the  bottom  lands  are  favored  resorts,  the  damp  woodlands 
and  decaying  vegetable  matter  sustaining  an  abundance 
of  insect  life,  which  is  necessary  to  the  presence  of  these 
expert  insect-catchers.  These  dark  woodlands  are  dreary 
at  best,  and  the  melancholy,  far-away  notes  of  the  powee 
add  little  to  the  cheeriuess  of  the  scene,  yet  they  are  in 
perfect  harmony  with  their  surroundings. 

The  wood  pewees  make  their  nests  about  the  first  week 
of  June.  The  invariable  site  of  the  nest  is  a  horizontal 
branch,  on  which  the  structure  is  placed  or  "saddled,"  often 
at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  trunk  or  body  of  the  tree, 
and  at  a  varying  height  between  six  and  forty  feet  from 
the  ground.  In  the  bottom  woodlands,  the  widespread  ing 
willows  furnish  convenient  sites,  and  in  the  higher  woods 
the  horizontal  arms  of  elms  furnish  the  desired  situations, 


228  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

the  nest  being  commonly  placed  on  a  dead  branch  or  a 
bare  portion  of  a  living  limb.  The  nest  is  made  of  fine 
dried  grass,  covered  with  willow  cotton  and  lichens,  and 
lined  with  fine  grasses.  The  structure  is  fastened  to  the 
branch  by  pieces  of  gossamer  and  cottony  fibers,  and  is 
characterized  by  its  shallowness.  An  average  nest  meas- 
ures two  and  three-fourths  inches  in  external  diameter, 
the  cavity  being  one  inch  and  seven-eighths  in  diameter 
and  three-fourths  of  an  inch  deep,  a  snugly  rounded, 
exquisitely  constructed  saucer  for  the  reception  of  the  eggs, 
commonly  three,  sometimes  four.  They  have  a  creamy 
white  ground,  and  are  spotted  with  reddish-brown  and 
lilac,  the  spots  often  forming  a  wreath  around  the  larger 
end.  They  average  .75  by  .55  of  an  inch.  .Robert  Bidg- 
way  beautifully  says  that  the  nest  "  is  one  of  the  most 
elegant  examples  of  bird  architecture.  From  beneath  it 
usually  so  much  resembles  a  natural  protuberance  of  a 
branch,  or  knotty  excrescence,  that  but  for  its  betrayal  by 
the  owner  it  would  seldom  be  discovered.  It  is  a  very 
compact,  saucer-shaped  structure,  with  thick  walls,  and 
the  whole  exterior  is  a  beautiful  '  mosaic  '  of  green,  gray, 
and  glaucous  lichens." 

The  notes  of  the  wood  pewees  are  heard  oftenest  in  the 
breeding  season,  which  sometimes  is  prolonged  into  July, 
and  it  is  probable  that  two  broods  are  raised  in  many 
instances.  Nests  with  young  are  not  uncommon  at  the 
twentieth  of  July,  but  whether  these  are  due  to  late  nidifi- 
cation  in  the  first  attempt,  or  to  failures  in  earlier  attempts, 
or  to  second  nests,  I  am  unable  to  state  with  certainty. 
Any  of  the  three  causes  may  operate  at  various  times. 
During  August  and  until  they  take  their  departure  for 
their  winter  homes,  the  wood  pewees  are  heard  less  fre- 
quently, and  they  resort  to  higher  places  in  the  trees.  In 
the  dark  maple  groves  and  in  the  forest  they  can  be  seen 
flitting  out  into  the  open  spaces  for  insects,  darting  out 
and  turning  abruptly  upward  or  downward,  and  often 
taking  insects  from  the  surface  of  the  leaves  while  hover- 
ing in  warbler-like  fashion.  After  the  nesting  period 
they  are  less  solitary,  and  several  are  often  seen  in  the 
same  part  of  the  grove  or  woods,  darting  to  and  fro  in 
pursuit  of  their  prey.  They  are  then  most  active  in  the 


Phoebe.  229 

morning  and  late  in  the  afternoon,  often  prolonging  the 
chase  until  darkness  drives  them  to  their  rest.  Most  of 
them  leave  this  latitude  in  September,  while  a  few  fre- 
quently remain  until  early  in  October. 


PHOEBE. 

It  was  in  my  early  rambles  through  the  woodlands  that 
I  first  met  and  learned  to  love  the  "gentle  phoebe.  While 
it  is  not  essentially  a  bird  of  the  woodlands,  its  favorite 
resorts  are  the  bridges  which  cross  the  streams,  and  in 
this  region  the  streams  mark  the  location  of  our  forests. 
The  water-courses  of  this  great  prairie  section  are  fringed 
by  the  wooded  areas,  now  reduced  to  narrow  ribbons  on 
either  side  of  the  creeks,  if  indeed  not  removed  altogether, 
and  in  my  boyhood  rambles  along  one  of  these  Illinois 
creeks  I  received  my  early  lessons  in  birdways.  Among 
the  treasured  pictures  of  my  early  years  of  the 

"  time  when  meadow,  prove,  and  stream, 
The  earth,  and  every  common  sight, 

To  me  did  seem 
Apparelled  in  celestial  light, 
The  glory  and  the  freshness  of  a  dream," 

there  stands  the  old  bridge  over  the  creek  along  whose 
banks  I  so  frequently  wandered.  Eecalling  the  familiar 
scenes,  in  fancy  I  again  stand  beside  the  stonework  sup- 
porting the  ends  of  the  bridge,  and  looking  up  to  scan  the 
beams  above  my  head,  I  seem  to  see  the  form  of  the  gentle 
phcebe  darting  from  its  nest,  and  to  see  it  perch  on  the 
end  of  a  dry  twig  over  the  stream,  uttering  its  abrupt, 
emphatic  call.  It  is  no  matter  of  wonder  that  though 
devoid  of  the  colors  which  render  attractive  some  birds 
otherwise  little  worthy  of  our  esteem,  the  phoebe  has  a 
welcome  place  in  the  friendship  of  all  who  know  it.  Its 
preference  for  the  vicinity  of  man ;  its  early  appearance 
at  the  first  evidences  of  the  opening  of  spring;  its  refined 
and  modest  manners,  and  its  perfect  freedom  from  any 
imputation  of  harm  in  its  food-habits,  all  combine  to  give 
it  a  high  rank  among  the  favorite  and  familiar  species. 


230  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

The  young  lover  of  nature  who  has  missed  the  presence 
and  companionship  of  many  of  the  birds  through  the  drear 
winter,  longs  for  the  first  genial  breezes  and  other  indica- 
tions of  spring,  for  he  knows  that  the  voice  of  the  pho3be 
will  then  soon  greet  him  in  his  woodland  rambles,  and  he 
improves  the  first  opportunity  to  visit  the  places  made 
bright  by  this  harbinger  of  spring. 

The  phcebe  loves  to  dwell  about  the  mill-pond  or  the 
mill-race,  and  there  its  presence  is  welcomed  by  the  miller 
and  his  assistants,  who  usually  know  the  location  of  its 
moss-covered  home  on  a  moist  beam  or  a  dripping  rock. 
They  frequently  stop  a  moment  as  they  pass  in  their  work 
to  watch  the  progress  of  the  family  every  summer  until 
the  youngsters  venture  to  flatter  out  for  themselves. 
When  the  farmer  leads  his  horses,  weary  and  thirsty  after 
their  toil,  to  the  well  for  their  noonday  draught,  he  learns 
to  look  for  the  appearance  of  the  phcebe  from  its  nest  in 
a  corner  of  the  rude  shed  over  the  well,  and  his  children 
frequently  clamber  up  to  peep  into  the  domicile  and  to 
note  the  numb'er  of  the  eggs,  or  the  growth  of  the  hungry 
brood.  Or,  if  the  well-roof  is  not  the  chosen  site  of  the 
home,  a  beam  in  the  partly  open  barn,  or  under  the  car- 
riage shed,  may  allure  it  to  fix  its  habitation  thereon,  and 
as  the  children  play  about  the  outbuildings  they  soon  dis- 
cover the  residence  of  their  familiar  friend. 

The  phoebe  makes  its  summer  home  in  eastern  United 
States  and  British  Provinces.  Its  western  limit  is  the 
edge  of  the  great  plains.  In  the  fall  it  retires  to  the 
southern  part  of  the  United  States,  eastern  Mexico,  and 
Cuba.  Its  northern  limit  in  winter  is  about  the  thirty- 
eighth  parallel.  Not  long  after  the  ice  has  permanently 
disappeared  from  the  streams  whose  banks  it  frequents, 
and  before  the  robin,  bluebird,  and  song  sparrow  have 
ceased  to  utter  their  first  songs,  the  phcebe  has  taken  its 
accustomed  place  on  the  bare  extremity  of  the  elm  bough 
near  the  bridge.  It  prefers  the  vicinity  of  water,  for  over 
streams  and  ponds  swarm  the  insects  which  it  regularly 
makes  its  fare,  and  along  the  beds  and  banks  are  the  moss 
and  damp  rootlets  it  uses  in  the  construction  of  its  home. 
Often,  however,  its  preference  for  human  surroundings 
leads  it  to  live  away  from  either  stream  or  pond.  What- 


Phoebe.  231 

ever  its  chosen  neighborhood,  it  early  makes  its  appear- 
ance, and  its  voice  and  presence  are  an  earnest  of  the 
approaching  season.  The  trees  do  not  usually  don  their 
summer  robes  until  several  weeks  after  its  arrival,  and  as 
it  perches  on  bare  limbs  near  the  future  site  of  its  nest,  its 
manners  can  be  studied  with  uninterrupted  view  of  its 
surroundings.  Like  many  other  familiar  birds,  the  phcebe 
will  sometimes  return  to  the  same  place  summer  after 
summer,  showing  a  remarkable  attachment  to  a  particular 
spot. 

From  its  perch  over  or  beside  the  streamlet,  the  phoebe 
dashes  out  and  takes  the  flying  insects  which  dance  in  the 
sunshine  and  dart  to  and  fro  above  the  shallow  water. 
Turning  quickly  in  air,  after  the  manner  of  the  kingbird 
and  the  wood  pewee,  it  returns  to  ita  perch,  or  to  another  one 
favorable  to  the  continuance  of  its  occupation  of  procuring 
a  meal.  It  apparently  is  endowed  with  a  more  nervous 
temperament  than  its  relative  mentioned,  for  it  is  very 
restless,  being  more  like  Traill's  flycatcher  in  this  respect. 
Even  while  sitting  on  its  perch,  its  flitting  tail  and  nerv- 
ous drooping  of  the  wings  and  other  quick  motions,  betray 
ita  restless  disposition.  Indeed,  it  even  utters  the  call 
which  suggests  its  name  in  an  abrupt,  jerky  manner,  and 
in  most  of  ita  actions  it  reminds  us  of  children  who  seem- 
ingly can't  keep  still  for  more  than  a  little  moment. 

Thus  the  phoebe  passes  the  days  of  ita  summer  sojourn, 
unwittingly  allying  itself  with  the  agriculturist  as  it  satis- 
fies the  demands  of  its  daily  existence.  Frequently  as  it 
sits  it  calls  in  the  well-known  syllables  which  have  given 
the  species  the  popular  name  of  <( pewee."  These  sylla- 
bles are  often  uttered  in  the  sharp,  twittering  manner 
peculiar  to  the  flycatchers,  and  to  the  sympathetic  listener 
they  express  a  sense  of  gratification  at  the  capture  of  a 
choice  bit  of  food,  or  a  feeling  of  joy  in  the  possession 
of  a  home  and  congenial  surroundings.  •  This  twittering 
is  not  properly  ranked  as  a  song,  for  the  flycatchers  are  not 
classed  with  the  songsters;  but  it  is  as  good  a  song  as  is 
executed  by  some  of  the  real  singers.  The  flycatchers 
should  have  full  credit,  if  they  exercise  the  talents  they 
possess,  even  if  their  efforts  are  not  so  noisy  as  those  of 
some  of  the  so-called  Oscines. 


232  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

The  phoebe  nests  comparatively  early.  lu  central  Illi- 
nois the  structure  is  usually  ready  for  the  eggs  by  the  end 
of  the  first  week  of  April.  The  nest  is  placed  on  a  beam 
of  a  bridge  or  other  similar  edifice,  or  on  a  projecting  rock 
or  niche  in  abutments.  The  liking  of  the  phoebe  ior  tho 
vicinity  of  bridges  has  caused  it  to  receive  the  common 
name  of  "  bridge  bird,"  and  "  bridge  pewee."  As  before 
mentioned,  the  familiar  habits  of  the  phcebe  often  lead  it 
to  establish  its  home  about  the  barnyard  and  outbuildings. 
Frequently  it  finds  a  tempting  niche  among  the  stones  or 
bricks  in  the  walls  of  a  well,  and  there  makes  a  home 
below  the  ordinary  level.  I  knew  a  pair  to  nest  nine  feet 
below  the  rim  of  the  well-curb,  and  five  feet  below  the 
ground  level,  in  a  place  in  the  wall  from  which  a  brick 
had  fallen.  The  well  was  used  daily,  the  water  being 
drawn  up  by  means  of  buckets  attached  to  a  rope  passing 
over  a  wheel,  which  was  suspended  from  the  middle  of  a 
small  shed  over  the  well.  I  was  doubtful  whether  the 
young  birds  would  be  able  to  flutter  out  of  the  well  suc- 
cessfully, but  the  elders  knew  their  business  better  than  I, 
and  hence  I  offered  them  no  advice  about  tho  matter.  I 
never  knew  the  fate  of  the  brood,  though  I  visited  the 
place  frequently  to  watch  developments,  for  one  day  I 
found  the  nest- empty. 

Often  the  nest  is  cemented  to  the  perpendicular  side 
of  a  joist  or  beam  under  bridges.  In  such  instances  the 
muddy  materials  used  in  the  nest  adhere  to  the  wood,  and 
on  drying  support  the  weight  of  the  nest.  In  the  Oologist 
for  March,  1895,  an  illustration  is  given  of  an  unusual  nest 
site  of  the  phoabe,  "on  a  -|-inch  cotton  rope,  which  was 
stretched  at  an  angle  of  42°  by  exact  measurement;"  and 
an  unusually  interesting  article  by  Ernest  W.  Vickers  is 
based  on  this  remarkable  nesting  site.  The  usual  founda- 
tion of  the  nest  is  mud,  with  which  are  mingled  fine  root- 
lets and  mossy  materials,  gathered  by  the  birds  chiefly 
while  they  are  on  the  wing.  They  dash  toward  the  mate- 
rial they  have  selected,  hover  a  moment  in  gathering  it, 
and  then  return  to  the  perch  to  pause  a  moment  before 
flying  to  the  nest  to  deposit  the  substance  collected.  When 
the  material  they  are  gathering  is  tougher  than  usual  and 
does  not  tear  away  readily  from  its  place  of  attachment, 


Tufted   Titmouse.  233 

it  is  interesting  to  watch  their  efforts  to  pull  away  the 
substance  while  they  are  fluttering  in  the  air.  Horsehair 
is  often  used  in  lining  the  nest,  and  the  exterior  of  the 
mud  walls  is  sometimes  coated  with  dark  green  moss  taken 
from  the  moist  logs  and  rocks.  If  the  nest  be  undisturbed, 
the  same  foundation  is  used  for  several  years,  the  pile 
growing  each  year  by  the  addition  of  similar  material. 
More  than  one  brood  is  reared  in  the  season,  as  I  have 
found  nests  with  unfledged  young  as  late  as  July  15th,  in 
situations  where  the  premises  had  not  been  harried  earlier. 
"The  eggs,"  says  Davie,  "are  ordinarily  four  or  five  in 
number;  clutches  of  five  are  the  most  common;  they  are 
pure  white,  sometimes  sparsely  spotted  with  obscure  or 
well-defined  reddish-brown  dots  at  the  larger  end.  In 
exceptional  instances,  the  pewee  deposits  six  or  seven 
eggs.  Their  average  size  is  .81  by  .52." 

Of  this  favorite  species,  Mr.  J.  H.  Langille,  in  his  "Our 
Birds  in.  Their  Haunts,"  thus  writes:  "The  phoebe  has  a 
better  reputation  than  either  wren  or  robin;  approaches 
us  with  even  more  confidence  than  the  bluebird;  can  vie 
with  the  swallow  in  her  destruction  of  noxious  insects; 
in  the  self-sacrifice  of  her  domestic  cares  is  outdone  by 
none,  and  is  the  sure  herald  of  the  bright  and  happy  days 
of  spring.  On  the  other  hand,  no  pilfering  or  cruel  habits 
or  faults  of  any  kind  detract  from  her  many  virtues.  In 
moral  suggestiveness,  the  history  of  such  a  life  is  more 
potent  than  a  fable,  and  welcome  as  the  beauty  and  fra- 
grance of  the  flowers.  Then  cordially  greet  this  summer 
resident,  more  disposed  to  self-domestication  than  any 
other  bird  cf  our  country." 


TUFTED  TITMOUSE. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  us  to  ramble  far  through  the 
woods  to  form  the  acquaintance  of  this  sprightly,  merry- 
spirited  creature,  for  he  is  himself  a  rambler  of  the  wood- 
lands. While  the  wood  thrush,  the  crested  flycatcher, 
the  wood  pewee,  and  the  phcebe  have  certain  portions 
of  the  wood  in  which  they  spend  most  of  their  time,  and 
in  fact  appear  to  have  established  ways,  the  tufted  tit- 


234  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

mouse  is  more  of  a  Bohemian,  flitting  here  and  there,  as 
the  frolicsome  company  with  whom  he  associates  may 
please  to  go.  However,  it  must  not  be  presumed  that  he  is 
trifling  away  his  time  as  he  thus  mukes  merry  with  his 
boon  companions,  for  a  more  industrious  fellow  never 
roved  the  woods.  He  has  learned  the  secret  of  working 
with  a  willing  heart,  and  that  which  is  a  task  to  some 
of  the  birds  is  apparently  a  real  pleasure  to  him. 
•  Let  us  take  a  seat  in  some  retired  and  shady  spot,  per- 
'haps  on  the  grassy  bank  of  the  little  stream  along  which  we 
are  accustomed  to  ramble,  and  there  leisurely  wait  for  the 
appearance  of  any  of  our  feathered  neighbors.  Though 
at  first  all  may  be  quiet  and  drowsy  in  our  surroundings, 
we  may  soon  hear  the  emphatic  "chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee- 
dee,"  or  the  chattering  twitter  by  which  we  have  learned 
to  recognize  the  active,  familiar  chickadee,but  the  unusual 
force  and  emphasis  now  marking  the  production  cause  us 
to  look  more  closely  for  its  author.  There  he  is,  clinging 
among  the  lower  branches  of  an  adjacent  oak  to  reach  a 
tempting  morsel.  Now  he  is  tugging  it  from  its  lurking 
place,  and  brings  to  the  light  a  caterpillar  eating  its  way 
into  the  life  of  the  tree.  Having  secured  the  prize,  he 
flits  to  a  convenient  perch  on  a  bare  limb,  and  sitting 
proudly  erect,  he  chatters  his  satisfaction  and  pleasure. 

Wo  first  note  his  plump,  well-fed  form ;  then  we  mark 
the  most  prominent  feature  about  him,  the  stately  crest, 
which  gives  him  the  name  of  tufted  titmouse.  The  pos- 
session of  a  crest  as  an  ornamental  feature  in  the  plumage 
is  so  unusual  that  most  of  the  birds  thus  decorated  have 
names  indicative  of  the  fact,  in  witness  of  which  we  have 
the  crested  flycatcher  and  the  pileated  woodpecker.  Per- 
haps the  cardinal  received  its  ecclesiastical  title  because 
that  important  and  high  official  of  the  Church  of  Home 
wears  a  red  hat  as  emblematical  of  his  office.  The  generic 
name  of  Lophophanes,  given  to  the  group  of  birds  includ- 
ing the  tufted  titmouse,  means  "  to  appear  with  a  tuft  or 
crest,"  and  if  you  are  not  familiar  with  the  tufted  tit- 
mouse, look  for  this  feature  first.  Then  we  note  that  its 
upper  parts  are  ashy,  with  a  black  band  on  the  forehead, 
just  at  the  base  of  the  crest.  Its  under  parts  are  dingy 
white,  but  the  sides  of  the  body  are  chestnut,  or  yellowish- 


Tufted   Titmouse.  23& 

brown.  If  we  are  near  enough,  we  may  see  that  the  bill 
and  feet  are  lead  color.  This  titmouse  is  a  trifle  larger 
than  the  black-capped  titmouse,  or  chickadee,  and  is  some- 
what smaller  than  the  downy  woodpecker,  with  which  it 
associates  in  its  roving  through  the  woods. 

As  residents  of  the  woods,  the  tufted  titmice  are  not 
disposed  to  resort  to  any  extent  to  the  "  upper  story,"  but 
prefer  the  level  of  the  lower  branches  and  the  tops  of  the 
weeds  and  bushes.  They  are  rather  noisy,  and  remarkably 
fond  of  companionship,  usually  falling  in  with  the  chick- 
adees, nuthatches,  creepers,  and  juncos,  in  winter.  They 
are  seldom  seen  without  associates  of  some  kind,  except 
in  the  nesting  season.  They  move  about  through  the 
woods  in  little  troops,  each  individual  apparently  inter- 
ested solely  in  its  own  affairs,  and  paying  no  particular 
attention  to  the  movements  of  the  others.  We  may  first 
be  informed  of  the  vicinity  of  the  little  chickadee  by  it* 
gentler  chatter;  presently  we  may  hear  the  heavier 
"quank"  of  the  white-breasted  nuthatch,  followed  by  the 
more  emphatic  scolding  of  the  tufted  titmouse;  then  the 
sharp  "plick"  of  the  downy  woodpecker,  who  stops  to 
drum  occasionally  upon  suitable  branches.  We  begin  to 
imagine  that  we  are  in  the  midst  of  numbers  of  birds,  when 
one  by  one  they  disappear,  separately  as  individuals,  but 
entirely  as  a  troop,  and  the  woods  about  us  again  become 
silent. 

These  sprightly  creatures  are  not  confined  to  the  woods 
in  their  strolling  life.  They  remain  with  us  throughout 
the  year,  and  during  the  colder  months,  when  they  find 
it  more  difficult  to  procure  their  insect  fare  from  the  icy 
and  snow-laden  branches,  they  enter  the  gardens  and 
door-yards  in  the  country,  seeking  to  add  to  their  scanty 
forest  larder  some  of  the  tid-bits  from  our  tables.  At 
such  times  they  may  be  seen  with  the  snowbirds  and 
chickadees,  perching  at  times  with  stately  air  upon  the 
dried  stalks  and  weeds,  and  at  other  times  clinging  head 
downward  in  their  attempts  to  secure  attractive  objects 
from  the  lower  sides  of  the  limbs. 

The  author  of  "  Our  Own  Birds "  says  of  this  and 
related  species :  "The  titmouse,  like  its  cousin,  the  wren, 
is  an  active,  cunning  little  creature,  ever  on  the  go,  hop,. 


236  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

skip,  and  jump,  from  branch  to  branch,  head  down,  or 
head  up,  as  is  most  convenient,  incessantly  prying  into 
the  private  affairs  of  the  insect  world,  laying  waste  the 
prospects  of  a  promising  iamily  with  one  stroke  of  the 
bill,  and  hunting  up  the  vermin  with  such  untiring 
industry  as  fairly  to  win  for  him  a  conspicuous  place 
among  the  farmer's  friends." 

In  the  latter  part  of  February  the  numbers  of  individ- 
uals of  this  species  seem  to  increase,  probably  through  the 
arrival  of  visitors  from  more  southern  localities  who  are 
seeking  northern  summer  homes.  They  grow  more  noisy 
and  musical  as  the  nesting  period  approaches.  We  shall 
not  be  able  to  observe  them  to  any  extent  at  this  season 
in  the  towns  and  door-yards,  for  they  become  less  familiar 
and  retire  somewhat  from  human  surroundings  at  the 
mating  and  nesting  time.  Then  they  rove  less  through 
the  woods,  and  seek  a  place  which  they  can  call  home  for 
a  few  weeks,  dropping  their  companions  of  the  fall  and 
winter,  who  likewise  become  more  staid  and  settled  in  their 
ways.  They  generally  have  a  song  for  every  occasion, 
and  chatter  and  call  wherever  they  go;  but  at  the  close 
of  winter  the  males  begin  a  louder,  clearer,  sweeter  call, 
which  gives  new  life  to  the  woods.  This  song  is  composed 
of  the  syllables  "pe-to,"  repeated  indefinitely,  and  vari- 
ously modulated  by  different  individuals.  Colonel  Gross 
translates  the  song  by  suggesting  the  syllables  "che'o, 
che'o,  che'o,"  as  used  at  times.  The  mating  period  devel- 
ops considerable  jealousy  and  rivalry  among  the  males, 
for  they  will  permit  no  rivals  to  cast  affectionate  glances 
at  the  ladies  of  their  choice,  and  their  activity  in  attending 
them  and  looking  out  for  any  demonstrations  of  rival 
suitors  is  very  noticeable.  Colonel  Goss  says  that  "while 
their  mates  are  building  a  nest  they  do  not  aid,  but 
proudly  follow  her  back  and  forth,  singing  their  very  best 
to  cheer  her,  and  in  so  doing  betray  their  nesting  place 
and  make  it  an  easy  find." 

The  nest  of  the  tufted  titmouse  is  made  in  a  cavity  in  a 
tree,  trunk,  stump,  or  log,  either  high  or  low  indiscrimi- 
nately. A  natural  opening  in  a  knot-hole,  or  the  deserted 
home  of  a  woodpecker,  is  preferred,  though  the  titmouse 
does  not  hesitate  to  make  excavations  for  itself  in  decay- 


Tufted  Titmouse.  237 

ing  and  soft  wood.  The  downy  woodpecker  is  perhaps 
its  best  friend  in  the  matter  of  fitting  up  the  cavity  in 
harder  wood.  On  a  foundation  of  dried  leaves  and  moss, 
the  nest  is  made  of  moss  and  vegetable  fibers,  and  it  is 
lined  with  soft  fibers  and  cowhairs.  A  complement  of 
eggs  consists  of  five  to  eight.  They  have  a  ground  of 
pure  white  or  creamy  white,  and  are  speckled  with  shades 
of  reddish-brown.  They  average  .74  by  .54  of  an  inch. 

After  the  parental  cares  are  over  and  the  young  have 
left  the  nest  and  become  self-supporting,  these  birds 
resume  their  roving  life,  indicating  their  presence  by  their 
noisy  calls  and  their  notes  similar  to  the  chatter  of  the 
real  chickadee.  They  are  fearless  little  rovers,  and  do 
not  hesitate  to  enter  the  parts  of  the  woods  appropriated 
by  the  larger  hawks.  I  have  seen  them  flitting  and  chat- 
tering in  a  large  tree  in  whose  top  several  young  red- 
tailed  hawks  were  receiving  their  final  lessons  in  domestic 
economy  from  their  elders.  The  little  merry-makers 
seemed  not  the  least  disturbed  by  the  proximity  of  the 
larger  birds.  Indeed,  they  had  little  ground  for  fears,  for 
these  larger  buzzard-hawks  are  notably  good-natured,  and 
rarely  or  never  molest  the  smaller  birds  of  the  forest, 
where  they  find  the  food  they  ordinarily  desire. 

The  titmice  do  not  fly  far  in  their  restless  movements, 
but  flutter  from  one  part  of  a  tree  to  another.  They  are 
somewhat  dignified  in  their  deportment,  and  are  easy  and 
graceful,  except  when  they  are  attempting  to  reach  any 
morsel  of  food  not  easily  accessible.  They  frequently 
gather  acorns  in  the  winter,  and  it  is  interesting  to  watch 
an  individual  secure  the  contents.  It  will  hold  the  acorn 
firmly  against  its  perch  with  its  feet  and  peck  it  lustily 
with  its  stout,  sharp  bill,  until  it  has  cracked  or  broken 
the  hard  crust;  then  still  holding  the  fractured  acorn  as 
before,  it  will  separate  the  broken  parts  with  its  bill  and 
eat  them  with  relish.  It  treats  large  insects  and  cater- 
pillars in  the  same  way,  using  its  slender  feet  in  a  manner 
quite  foreign  to  the  ordinary  ways  of  the  smaller  birds. 


238  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 


RED-EYED  VIEEO. 

The  fresh  foliage  of  the  maples,  the  unrolling  and  ex- 
panding buds  of  the  elms,  and  the  evanescent  blossoms  of 
the  apple,  cherry,  and  peach  trees  bring  to  us  a  host  of 
smaller  birds  which  linger  in  southern  latitudes  until  they 
are  assured  of  the  immediate  opening  of  the  northern 
warmer  season.  The  vireos,  the  flycatchers,  and  the 
warblers,  in  fact  all  the  birds  that  are  strictly  insectivorous 
and  take  their  food  from  the  blossoms  and  foliage  of  the 
trees,  defer  their  appearance  until  the  food  they  desire  has 
become  abundant.  At  the  favorable  time  they  come  in 
full  song,  and  usually  attired  in  their  showy  summer 
plumage,  they  flit  among  the  lately  unfolded  vegetation, 
giving  additional  charm  and  animation  to  the  growing 
beauty  of  arboreal  life.  Prominent  among  them  is  the 
red-eyed  vireo,  a  most  abundant  resident  of  the  orchard, 
park,  grove,  highway  trees,  and  woodlands.  Ordinarily 
it  precedes  the  other  vireos  in  its  return  to  its  summer 
home,  and  taking  up  its  vocation  of  singing  and  gleaning 
noxious  insects  from  the  bark  and  foliage  of  the  trees  it 
frequents,  it  is  soon  at  home  as  in  the  preceding  summer. 

Although  the  charming  song  of  this  little  greenlet  is 
heard  commonly  issuing  from  the  trees  which  shade  the 
sidewalks  in  villages  and  cities,  and  is  also  characteristic 
of  the  orchard  and  garden  trees,  in  this  section  it  is 
especially  noticeable  in  the  woodlands,  where  the  emphatic 
notes  are  heard  at  any  time  of  the  day  in  the  vocal  season. 
This  vireo  is  abundant  in  the  elms  and  maples  of  the 
highways,  parks,  and  groves  in  the  early  days  of  the  sea- 
son, since  the  hardwood  trees  of  the  woodlands  are  slower 
in  donning  their  vernal  robes,  but  in  the  mating  and  nest- 
ing period  the  red-eyed  vireo  is  a  typical  bird  of  the 
woods.  Though  much  has  been  written  concerning  the 
red-eyed  vireo,  and  though  its  songs  are  common  both  in 
public  and  retired  places,  the  author  of  the  music  is  to  the 
mass  of  people  known  only  in  a  generaland  superficial  way. 
The  red-eyed  vireo  has  many  interesting  traits,  however, 
and  the  unreserved  liberality  with  which  it  dispenses  its 
music  through  the  summer,  the  confidence  it  manifests  by 


NEST   AND   YOUNG   OF    RED-EYED   VIREO. 

From  life.     AJter  Shufeldi. 


Red-Eyed  Vireo.  239 

swinging  its  fibrous  basket  above  our  frequented  streets, 
and  its  services  to  vegetation  strongly  recommend  it  to 
our  personal  acquaintance  and  friendship. 

While  the  charming  little  red-eyed  vireo  is  worthy  of 
our  study,  he  does  not  like  to  be  watched.  "When  we  try 
to  observe  him  closely,  he  will  move  from  his  perch,  gen- 
erally near  the  extremity  of  a  branch  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  foliage,  and  take  a  similar  position  higher  or  in  an 
adjacent  tree.  As  we  listen  to  his  song  we  peer  up  into 
the  foliage  to  obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  earnest  musician, 
whom  we  perhaps  see  industriously  gleaning  among  the 
fresh  buds  as  if  the  thought  of  singing  had  never  entered 
his  mind.  While  he  is  bending  over  his  lunch  we  hear 
the  song  again,  and  as  he  lifts  his  head  we  are  able  to  note 
something  of  his  appearance.  His  upper  parts  are  dark 
olive  green  and  his  lower  parts  principally  white,  mark- 
ings so  common  to  many  of  the  smaller  birds  that  it  is 
difficult  to  identify  them  at  a  distance  and  amid  the  envi- 
ronments which  obscure  the  colors  of  their  plumage. 
The  red  color  of  the  iris  of  this  vireo  serves  to  distinguish 
it  from  the  other  greenlets,  when  it  is  examined  under 
favorable  circumstances.  The  bird  is  scarcely  over  six 
inches  in  length,  and  its  markings  are  assimilated  so 
closely  with  the  dark  green  of  the  foliage  that  it  is  always 
difficult  to  discover  the  little  creature  when  we  hear  the 
song.  From  the  action  of  the  little  vocalist,  the  bird- 
gazer  would  not  connect  him  with  the  music  heard,  for 
all  the  while  he  is  apparently  interested  solely  in  procur- 
ing a  meal  from  the  adjacent  bark  and  buds  ;  and  even 
while  his  head  is  bent  down  to  pull  a  dainty  morsel  into 
the  light,  his  emphatic  notes  are  uttered. 

The  song  of  the  red-eyed  vireo  is  short,  but  one  produc- 
tion is  generally  followed  by  another  after  only  a  short 
pause.  It  consists  of  four 'or  five  notes,  uttered  in  urgent, 
monitory  style,  and  repeated  at  short  intervals  through- 
out the  day.  Often  the  voice  of  the  red-eyed  vireo  is  the 
only  one  heard  during  the  noon  hour,  when  the  heat  has 
silenced  the  voices  of  all  the  other  songsters.  In  short, 
emphatic  sentences  he  seems  to  admonish  us  with  parental 
interest,  and  from  this  quality  of  his  song  he  has  been 
characterized  as  the  «  preacher  "  by  Wilson  Flagg,  whose 


240  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

rendition  of  the  song  enabled  me  immediately  to  identify 
this  vireo.  The  song  is  louder  than  the  tender  expression 
of  the  warbling  vireo,  and  in  tone  and  execution  has  a 
closer  resemblance  to  the  carols  of  the  robin  than  to  the 
songs  of  the  other  vireos.  We  first  hear  three  or  four 
notes  clearly  articulated  with  a  rising  inflection ;  then 
there  comes  a  short  pause,  followed  by  a  series  of  four  or 
five  notes  executed  as  before ;  again  there  is  another  em- 
phatic song,  and  thus  we  become  familiar  with  the  persist- 
ent roundels  of  the  red-eyed  vireo. 

Both  the  warbling  and  the  red-eyed  vireo  are  common 
residents  of  the  tall  elms  and  maple  trees  of  the  highways 
and  dooryards.  They  are  also  found  regularly  in  the 
maple  groves  and  the  parks,  and  both  are  also  found  in 
the  woodlands.  The  red -eyed  vireo,  however,  is  more 
attached  to  the  woods  than  the  warbling  vireo,  and  in  the 
woodlands  it  discovers  its  most  charming  traits.  Eobert 
Eidgway  says  that <(  taking  the  country  at  large,  the  red- 
eyed  vireo  is  perhaps  the  most  abundant  woodland  species." 
It  is  especially  abundant  in  the  large  trees  growing  on  the 
immediate  banks  of  the  rivers,  among  the  elms,  maples, 
cottonwoods,  and  willows.  Its  urgent  notes  ring  out  in 
fullest  power,  sharpest  tone,  and  most  persistent  repetition 
in  the  woods  thus  fringing  the  rivers  and  small  streams. 
The  fine  groves  of  oak,  hickory,  and  walnut,  yet  standing 
here  and  there  throughout  our  upland  prairie  regions,  are 
favorite  resorts  of  this  vireo,  though  woods  bordering 
small  water-courses  have  the  most  attraction  for  it.  It 
seldom  seeks  the  depths  of  the  woods  and  groves,  but 
prefers  the  outer  parts,  though  it  does  not  often  got  out  into 
the  direct  sunshine,  as  the  vireos  are  all  creatures  of  the 
shade. 

The  summer  home  of  this  species  is  eastern  temperate 
North  America.  It  ranges  westward  to  the  Eocky  Moun- 
tains, and  winters  from  Florida  to  northern  Soutn  America. 
Our  red-eyed  vireos  come  back  to  us  about  the  beginning 
of  the  third  week  in  April,  usually  preceding  the  warbling 
vireo  a  few  days.  They  remain  until  the  middle  of  Sep- 
tember, or  even  until  the  last  of  the  month  in  favorable 
weather.  Their  lively  movements  in  the  time  of  migra- 
tion, when  they  dally  in  the  tree  tops,  and  flit  in  and  out 


Bed- Eyed  Vireo.  241 

of  the  foliage,  snapping  down  insects  takeu  from  the 
leaves  and  often  on  the  wing,  have  caused  them  to  bo 
styled  the  "red-eyed  flycatchers."  They  also  resemble 
the  warblers  in  their  flitting  movements,  and  are  fre- 
quently mistaken  for  warblers  in  the  dark  foliage  of  the 
tree  tops.  They  travel  with  the  hordes  of  warblers  seeking 
summer  homes  far  beyond  the  northern  limits  of  our  State, 
and  for  a  bright  golden  day  of  the  brief  season  of  migra- 
tion these  late  species  will  cause  the  vernal  woods  to  seem 
animate  with  these  gay,  flitting  creatures.  The  warblers 
hurry  on  to  their  destinations,  but  the  vireos  remain,  and 
soon  their  welcome  songs  express  their  pleasure  in  again 
establishing  themselves  in  their  summer  home  of  love  and 
melody. 

The  nidification  of  the  red-eyed  vireo  begins  about  the 
middle  of  May,  and  the  eggs  are  deposited  in  the  last 
week  of  May,  or  the  early  part  of  June.  The  site  of  the 
nest  is  a  horizontal  fork  among  the  twigs  of  the  trees 
which  these  vireos  frequent.  Like  the  homes  of  the  other 
vireos,  the  nest  is  suspended  by  its  brim,  thus  forming  a 
pensile  but  not  loosely  swinging  cup.  It  is  generally  from 
one  to  four  feet  from  the  extremity  of  the  branch  that 
supports  it.  It  is  made  of  fine  fibers  of  weed  bark,  grasses, 
strings,  downy  feathers,  and  gossamer,  lined  with  fine 
grass.  The  cavity  is  rarely  less  than  an  inch  and  three- 
fourths  across  the  top,  and  about  one  inch  and  a  half  deep. 
The  eggs  vary  from  three  to  five,  though  sets  of  three  and 
four  are  the  most  common.  They  have  a  pure  white 
ground,  and  are  sparsely  marked  with  spots  of  blackish- 
brown,  chiefly  toward  the  larger  end.  They  average 
about  .85  by  .56  of  an  inch.  The  nest  is  situated  from 
five  to  thirty  feet  from  the  ground,  averaging  higher  in 
my  experience  than  the  nests  of  the  warbling  vireo,  for 
more  nests  of  the  latter  are  found  in  lower  situations. 

The  nests  of  the  red-eyed  vireo  that  I  have  examined 
are  smaller  in  diameter  than  those  of  the  warbling  vireo, 
and  the  cavities  average  a  trifle  deeper,  the  homes  of  the 
warbling  vireo  appearing  larger  and  shallower.  In  the 
construction  of  the  nest  the  female  red-eyed  vireo  does 
most  of  the  work,  if  not  all  of  it,  and  she  certainly  under- 
stands the  difficult  process  of  interweaving  the  sundry 
16 


242  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

materials.  The  bark  fibers  are  passed  in  and  out,  around 
and  under,  inside  and  outside,  in  a  manner  so  wonderful 
that  we  can  not  fail  to  praise  the  skill  of  the  little  builder. 
Frequently  she  is  assisted  by  the  male,  who  fetches  mate- 
rials for  her  to  arrange  into  the  nest,  and  sometimes  when 
she  becomes  impatient  to  occupy  her  new  home  before  it 
is  completed,  and  begins  to  deposit  her  eggs,  the  male 
continues  to  bring  materials,  which  she  adjusts  according 
to  her  fancy.  The  exterior  of  the  snug  little  structure  is 
sometimes  partially  covered  with  soft,  grayish  lint  and 
vegetable  worsted,  though  there  is  great  variety  in  the 
nests  in  regard  to  finish  and  embellishment. 

The  red-eyed  vireos  have  a  propensity  to  scold,  and  their 
harsh,  angry  "g'way"  is  a  common  sound  in  the  vicinity 
of  their  nests,  for  whoever  or  whatever  enters  the  claimed 
limits  of  a  pair  of  these  birds  is  certain  to  be  well  berated 
for  even  unconscious  trespass.  Their  jealousy  is  easily 
aroused  when  they  are  nesting,  and  the  commonest  sound 
of  the  woodlands  in  summer  is  the  almost  continual  scold- 
ing of  these  vireos.  The  blue  jays  are  very  likely  to  pro- 
voke the  anger  of  the  watchful  householders,  and  with 
a  storm  of  excited  "g'way  "  abuse,  the  owners  greet  the 
offending  intruder  and  demand  his  withdrawal  from 
the  spot.  One  summer  I  saw  a  blue  jay  skulking  in 
the  vicinity  of  a  nest  of  these  vireos.  I  was  attracted  to 
the  place  by  the  sharp,  rapidly  repeated  cries  of  the 
vireos,  and  I  detected  the  blue  jay  when  he  was  about 
two  feet  from  the  nest.  He  was  on  the  branch  supporting 
the  nest,  but  he  had  evidently  not  touched  the  guarded 
spot.  Both  birds  were  nervously  excited  and  "crying 
angry,"  uttering  their  maledictions  so  rapidly  that  these 
seemed  almost  continuous.  Each  of  the  little  defenders 
would  dart  upon  the  head  or  back  of  the  marauder,  and 
striking  him  with  a  loud,  angry  snap  of  the  bill,  would 
quickly  dart  out  of  his  reach.  When  the  jay  turned  his 
head  to  follow  the  movements  of  the  retreating  bird,  the 
other  parent  would  attack  him  from  another  direction 
with  a  similar  loud  snap  and  angry  outcry,  and  thus  they 
so  galled  the  big  fellow  by  their  savage  and  persistent 
attacks  that  he  was  forced  to  desist  from  his  evil  designs. 
The  blue  jay  tried  to  be  indifferent  at  the  beginning  of 


Downy  Woodpecker.  243 

their  attack,  but  soon  I  could  see  his  eyes  flash  with  anger 
at  every  stroke  he  received,  and  both  the  little  belligerents 
were  certain  to  strike  him  adroitly  at  every  turn.  I  have 
seldom  seen  two  human  beings  support  each  other  more 
intelligently  and  effectively  than  those  two  little  vireos. 

The  red-eyed  vireo  is  chiefly  insectivorous,  especially 
until  after  the  brood  is  reared,  the  food  of  the  nestlings 
being  almost  exclusively  insects  and  larvae.  This  vireo 
is  very  active  in  its  pursuit  of  insects  in  the  upper  parts 
of  the  trees,  during  the  early  part  of  the  season,  and  its 
movements  then  have  been  likened  to  those  of  the  warb- 
lers. It  has  a  sweet  tooth  also,  and  the  ripening  berries 
of  the  woods  allure  it  to  modify  its  ordinary  diet  of 
insects.  Along  with  the  catbird  and  the  brown  thrasher,  it 
will  occasionally  dine  upon  the  "  pokeberries "  found 
beside  the  hedges  that  border  the  woods.  The  raspberry 
and  blackberry  bushes  which  grow  in  some  parts  of  the 
woods  furnish  it  a  welcome  change.  Unlike  the  warb- 
ling vireo,  which  resumes  its  accustomed  habits  and 
warbles  its  familiar  songs  after  the  breeding  and  moulting 
season,  the  red-eyed  vireo  makes  a  partial  change  in  its 
bill  of  fare,  sings  only  occasionally,  and  visits  more  fre- 
quently the  bushes  growing  under  the  trees  it  inhabited 
exclusively  in  the  early  portion  of  the  season.  The  friend- 
ships it  forms  in  its  moulting  resorts  are  too  strong  to  be 
broken  altogether,  and  the  taste  of  the  new  dishes  it  finds 
lingers  in  its  mouth  and  draws  it  frequently  from  its 
lofty  insect  fare.  It  apparently  knows  full  well  the  resour- 
ces of  the  woods,  and  means  to  live  upon  the  best  its  sur- 
roundings afford — an  ever  cheerful,  happy-hearted  fellow, 
like  all  true  woodsmen,  contented  in  the  pleasures  of  a 
well-regulated,  serviceable  existence. 


DOWNY  WOODPECKEE. 

The  attention  of  the  woodland  rambler  can  not  fail  to 
fee  attracted  by  the  noisy  calls  and  obtrusive  actions  of 
the  woodpeckers,  but  while  the  habits  of  all  the  members 
of  this  family  are  quaint  and  interesting,  the  active  move- 
ments and  sprightly  manners  of  the  smallest  of  our  wood- 


244  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

peckers  invite  our  present  consideration.  It  is  the  prac- 
tice among  bird  biographers  to  describe  the  habits  of  the 
hairy  woodpecker  at  some  length,  and  then  to  characterize 
our  little  downy  friend  by  saying  that  in  general  colora- 
tion and  esse*  tial  habits  it  is  the  miniature  of  the  hairy 
woodpecker.  The  downy  woodpecker,  however,  has  a 
marked  individuality  of  its  own;  and  while  much  that  is 
written  of  the  hairy  woodpecker  applies  equally  to  the 
downy,  the  latter  appeals  to  us  by  coming  among  us  more 
frequently,  and  thus  affording  us  better  opportunities  to 
study  its  habits  about  our  homes  in  town  as  well  as  in  the 
country. 

The  habitat  of  the  downy  woodpecker  is  eastern  and 
northern  North  America,  ranging  northwest  throughout 
Alaska.  It  is  a  permanent  resident,  and  hence  it  can  be 
found  when  most  of  the  birds  are  absent.  The  winter 
birds  of  central  Illinois  and  adjacent  localities  in  the  up- 
land prairie  regions  are  so  few  that  they  arouse  additional 
interest  because  of  their  welcome  presence  when  the  reg- 
ular tide  of  bird  life  is  at  the  ebb.  When  the  drifting 
leaves  and  sombre  changes  of  late  September  and  early 
October  indicate  that  the  season  of  gayety  and  song  has 
ended,  the  summer  birds  rapidly  disappear  from  their  re- 
sorts, and  the  enthusiastic  lover  of  animated  nature  feels 
that  much  of  the  cheer  and  brightness  of  the  locality  has 
vanished  with  his  avian  friends.  Some  of  the  birds,  re- 
gardless of  the  frosty  breath  of  approaching  winter,  linger 
among  us,  and  thus  afford  us  opportunities  of  observing 
the  habits  of  birds  amid  hardships  which  few  of  our 
feathered  friends  will  face.  The  limited  number  of  winter 
residents  in  any  locality  renders  the  formation  of  their 
acquaintance  comparatively  easy  to  the  industrious  ob- 
server, and  such  acquaintance  will  serve  as  a  substantial 
basis  for  the  study  of  the  summer  birds  as  they  return 
to  us. 

Few  persons  will  have  any  difficulty  in  identifying  che 
downy  woodpecker,  for  he  has  the  distinction  of  being 
our  smallest  representative  of  a  group  unusually  well 
defined.  Who  is  likely  to  mistake  a  flycatcher,  or  a 
warbler,  or  a  vireo,  for  a  creature  so  unique  and  original 
as  a  woodpecker  ?  True,  the  red-headed  woodpecker  does 


Downy  Woodpecker.  245 

behave  quite  thrush-like  when  it  varies  its  diet  with  our 
apples  and  pears.  We  admit  that  the  flicker  often  sits 
down  to  dine  in  the  pasture  with  the  ease  and  air  of  the 
meadow  lark.  But  the  downy  woodpecker  is  too  observ- 
ant of  the  peculiar  practices  of  its  family  to  mislead  the 
observer  of  its  restless  movements,  and  hence  it  is  easily 
identified  by  the  discriminating  novice.  The  chattering 
chickadee  or  the  roving  nuthatch  will  certainly  bring  the 
little  snare  drummer  within  easy  observation.  There- 
after our  further  acquaintance  with  him  will  rest  chiefly 
upon  our  ability  and  zeal  as  a  bird -gazer. 

The  chief  colors  of  the  downy  woodpecker  are  black 
and  white,  the  former  serving  as  the  ground  upon  which 
are  placed  the  white  trimmings.  He  has  a  well  marked 
line  of  white  down  the  back,  and  two  white  stripes  on  the 
side  of  the  head,  as  well  as  two  stripes  of  black.  His 
black  coat  isgayly  ornamented  with  spots  of  white,  which 
markings  are  supposed  to  give  him  some  resemblance  to 
the  guinea-fowl  in  coloration,  and  hence  he  is  called  in 
some  localities  the  "little  guinea  woodpecker."  This 
dapper  little  rambler  of  the  woods  wears  a  neat  white  vest 
as  a  contrast  to  his  mottled  coat,  and  adorns  his  tail  by 
sticking  two  white  feathers  in  each  side.  '  To  add  to  his 
appearance  and  that  others  may  distinguish  him  from  his 
similarly  attired  spouse,  he  has  a  patch  of  bright  red  on 
the  back  of  the  neck.  Some  persons  call  him  the  "little 
sapsucker,"  and  thus  distinguish  him  from  the  hairy 
woodpecker,  which  is  known  popularly  as  the  "big  sap- 
sucker."  He  is  thus  designated  because  it  is  popularly 
thought  that  he  relishes  the  sap  of  the  trees  into  which 
he  drives  his  probing  bill.  Other  species  of  woodpeckers 
are  also  known  by  this  indefinite  and  misleading  title, 
which  has  become  a  sort  of  general  term  applied  to  any 
bird  woodpecker-like  in  movements,  whose  habits  are  not 
commonly  understood. 

There  is  one  genuine  sapsucker,  the  yellow-bellied 
woodpecker.  It  bores  into  the  bark  of  favorite  trees  until 
it  reaches  the  tender  sapwood,  which  it  eats  with  the  sap 
that  flows  from  the  numerous  shallow  holes  it  drills.  This 
genuine  sapsucker  hurts  the  trees  frequently  in  the  early 
spring,  but  both  the  hairy  and  the  downy  woodpecker  are 


246  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

guiltless  of  thus  hurting  trees,  and  they  are  unfortunate 
in  being  thus  classed  by  inaccurate  observers  and  thought- 
less persons.  The  horticulturist  who  has  seen  the  downy 
woodpecker  carefully  searching  along  a  branch  of  an  apple 
tree  in  his  orchard  knows  that  the  attention  of  the  little 
gleaner  is  given  solely 'to  the  decayed  parts  of  the  tree  or 
to  spots  infested  by  destructive  larvae,  and  hence  no  dam- 
age is  done  by  its  boring  into  the  bark.  In  fact,  its  en- 
deavors tend  to  prolong  the  life  of  the  tree  or  branch,  and 
the  farmer  who  persecutes  this  hardy  friend  or  permits  it 
to  be  molested  on  his  premises  must  be  sadly  deficient  in 
the  knowledge  of  his  interests. 

The  winter  movements  of  this  sprightly  little  wood- 
pecker bring  it  before  the  notice  of  those  who  seldom  visit 
the  woods,  for  then  it  frequently  comes  into  the  trees 
along  the  highways  and  in  our  door-yards,  apprising  us 
of  its  presence  by  the  sharp  metallic  call  peculiar  to  it 
and  its  larger  companion.  Like  the  chickadee,  the  downy 
woodpecker  is  very  social.  It  is  often  seen  roving  with 
the  chickadee,  very  frequently  enlivening  our  door-yards 
with  cheerful  calls  and  sprightly  movements.  The  chick- 
adees and  nuthatches  come  into  our  yards  in  little  stroll- 
ing companies,  and  among  them  is  usually  a  downy  wood- 
pecker, for  the  downy  seldom  seeks  the  company  of  its 
own  kind.  It  generally  falls  in  with  the  roving  nut- 
hatches and  titmice,  and  its  sharp  "pleek"  is  a  common 
accompaniment  to  the  hoarse  '<quank"of  the  white- 
breasted  nuthatch  and  the  cheerful  chatter  of  the  chicka- 
dee. The  downy  frequently  travels  as  a  companion  to  the 
hairy  woodpecker,  and  the  loud  "  pleek  "  of  the  big  fellow 
generally  finds  an  echo  in  the  somewhat  weaker  call  of 
his  little  consort. 

When  we  hear  the  sharp,  clear  call  of  the  downy  wood- 
pecker, we  must  look  for  him  clinging  to  the  trunk  or  a 
lower  branch  of  a  convenient  tree.  He  settles  himself 
securely  against  his  support,  bracing  himself  with  the 
stiff,  sharp  feathers  of  the  tail,  and  is  soon  drilling  a 
minute  tunnel  into  the  inner  bark  in  search  of  the  eggs 
and  larvae  of  the  insect  foes  of  the  tree.  His  strong, 
chisel  like  bill  is  well  adapted  to  this  sort  of  work,  and 
when  the  insect  is  reached  in  its  woody  burrow,  the  viscid, 


Downy  Woodpecker.  247 

extensile  tongue  of  the  woodpecker  is  thrust  through  the 
aperture  and  the  luckless  victim  is  quickly  transferred  to 
the  gullet  of  the  captor.  Then  he  hops  around  the  trunk 
or  along  the  branch,  peering  into  every  likely  crevice. 
Having  finished  his  examination  of  the  trunk  or  branch, 
with  gleeful  ease  he  flies  in  rapid,  sweepy  undulations  to 
another  promising  place  to  continue  his  investigations. 
'At  the  beginning  of  his  short  flights  he  utters  his  call, 
and  often  as  he  drops  against  his  base  of  operations  he 
expresses  his  pleasure  with  his  familiar  note.  The  downy 
woodpecker  is  not  restricted  to  the  trees  in  his  quest  for 
supplies,  but  can  often  be  seen  on  the  ground  about  the 
kitchen  door,  industriously  pecking  some  frozen  morsel 
thrown  from  the  table.  It  is  chiefly  in  the  winter  and 
early  spring  that  he  thus  seeks  to  supplement  the  fare 
furnished  him  by  the  trees,  bushes,  and  weeds.  In  these 
visits  to  the  back-yard  he  is  almost  as  familiar  as  the 
little  chipping  sparrow. 

Though  the  downy  woodpecker  is  somewhat  of  a  Bo- 
hemian in  his  disposition  to  roam  over  the  neighborhood, 
he  likes  to  have  a  place  he  can  call  home.  Along  in  the 
fall  he  inspects  many  inviting  sites  for  a  winter  habita- 
tion, and  finally  picks  out  a  location  suitable  to  his  needs. 
He  prefers  the  underside  of  an  oblique  branch  slightly 
decayed,  or  a  medium  sized  stump  somewhat  intenerated, 
and  he  employs  a  part  of  his  leisure  time  in  excavating  a 
shelter  from  the  keen  blasts  of  winter.  He  first  breaks 
open  an  irregular  entrance  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in 
diameter,  and  then  he  bores  into  the  wood  for  two  inches 
or  more,  through  the  softer  wood  between  the  bark  and 
the  heart-wood.  He  is  wise  in  his  method  of  labor-saving, 
however,  for  experience  has  probably  taught  him  that  by 
directing  his  course  obliquely  he  can  keep  working  in  the 
softer  wood;  hence  he  almost  invariably  veers  to  right  or 
left  instead  of  turning  directly  downward  into  the  harder 
wood  in  the  center  of  the  branch.  Many  excavations 
I  have  examined  were  thus  formed  by  following  the 
layers  of  softer  wood  just  beneath  the  bark  or  the  sap- 
wood.  He  seldom  goes  more  than  seven  inches  deep, 
gradually  enlarging  his  bedroom  as  he  descends,  until  it 
averages  less  than  four  inches  long  by  three  inches  wide. 


248  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

When  the  severe  weather  comes  from  the  cold  northwest, 
and  the  driving  snow  and  sleet  advise  the  little  downy 
that  he  must  have  comfortable  quarters  for  the  night,  he 
slips  into  his  snug  winter  bed  and  sleeps  sheltered  from 
the  bitter  blasts. 

With  the  opening  of  spring  the  downy  woodpeckers 
become  more  settled  in  their  ways  and  are  seldom  seen  in 
the  towns,  retiring  into  the  woods  and  secluded  groves  to 
rear  their  broods.  Usually  they  have  suitable  homes 
already  prepared ;  but  if  the  females  have  decided  prefer- 
ences of  their  own,  and  desire  to  live  in  new  habitations 
of  their  own  architecture,  the  construction  of  a  new  cavity 
is  not  a  difficult  matter  for  such  skillful  builders.  They 
work  by  turns  at  the  excavation,  the  male  hammering 
for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  and  then  sweeping  away  into 
the  woods  to  seek  the  female,  who  comes  immediately  to 
relieve  her  mate.  A  few  moments  may  be  spent  in  gal- 
lantry and  caresses,  and  then  the  second  labors  in  turn, 
while  the  other  flies  away  for  luncheon  and  refreshment. 
The  work  on  the  new  cavities  is  commenced  about  the  mid- 
dle of  April,  and  complements  of  eggs  are  found  from  the 
first  to  the  middle  of  May.  The  site  of  the  nest  is  not 
often  above  twenty  feet,  and  seldom  less  than  ten  feet 
from  the  ground.  There  are  usually  five,  sometimes  only 
four,  and  rarely  six  eggs  in  the  complement.  Like  the 
eggs  of  all  the  woodpeckers,  they  are  crystal  white, 
averaging  .Y5  by  .60  of  an  inch.  The  woodpeckers  make 
no  nests  in  the  cavities  they  use,  but  deposit  their  eggs 
on  the  bare  wood  or  on  the  fine  chips  in  the  bottom 
of  the  recess. 

As  becomes  a  personage  of  his  activity  and  intelligence, 
the  downy  woodpecker  sets  a  bountiful  and  well  assorted 
table.  In  the  spring  and  early  summer  he  dines  chiefly  on 
fresh  meat,  selected  with  his  own  careful  and  nice  dis- 
crimination. In  the  late  summer  and  fall  he  partakes 
of  the  small  fruits  growing  wild  throughout  his  domains; 
however,  he  has  never  been  accused  of  entering  the 
premises  of  his  neighbors  in  search  of  dessert.  He  fre- 
quently breakfasts  with  the  red-headed  woodpecker,  tow- 
hee,  robin,  and  catbird,  in  their  wild  cherry  trees  and 
grapevines,  and  with  the  flicker  he  dines  on  the  berries 


Downy  Woodpecker.  249 

of  the  Virginia  creeper,  poison  ivy,  and  other  plants 
of  the  woods.  Later  he  sups  with  the  sparrows  among 
the  sumachs  and  ironweeds,  and  in  mid-winter  he  gleans 
the  crumbs  and  fragments  found  near  the  kitchen  door. 
-In  fact,  he  neglects  no  opportunity  to  add  a  nice  tid-bit  to 
his  ordinary  fare,  whether  he  finds  it  among  the  lower 
branches  of  a  tree,  on  the  trunk,  among  the  bushes  and 
weedtops,  or  on  the  ground.  He  is  said  to  be  instru- 
mental in  scattering  the  seeds  of  the  poison  ivy,  with  the 
bluebird,  flicker,  crow,  and  other  species;  but  any  harm 
he  thus  does  unconsciously  can  be  overlooked  when  we 
reflect  that  he  is  only  slightly  increasing  his  own.  food 
supply,  and  hence  perhaps  increasing  the  abundance 
of  his  species  in  the  future.  Investigations  of  the  food 
of  the  common  woodpeckers  have  placed  our  little  friend 
at  the  head  of  the  list  for  beneficial  qualities,  and  were  he 
not  so  unjustly  and  absurdly  styled  a  "sap-sucker,"  his 
reputation  would  be  without  a  blemish;  but  tradition 
should  no  longer  mar  the  reputation  of  one  who  is  worthy. 
Intelligent  observation  is  rapidly  clearing  the  names  of 
our  friends  from  every  unjust  imputation,  and  in  future 
their  true  characters  should  be  subjects  of  common  knowl- 
edge. 


VII.— BIRDS  OF  BEAK  AND  TALON. 

"  I  know  a  falcon  swift  and  peerless 

As  e'er  was  cradled  in  the  pine; 
No  bird  had  ever  eye  so  fearless, 
Or  wing  so  strong  as  this  of  mine." 

—LOWELL. 

THERE  is  a  common  interest  manifested  in  the  manners 
and  movements  of  the  birds  of  prey.  While  many  of  the 
smaller  birds  discover  qualities  which  win  our  friendship 
and  love,  we  are  impelled  to  respect  the  evidences  of 
strength  and  the  boldness  of  character  of  the  larger 
birds,  whose  activity  and  prowess  enable  them  to 
procure  a  living  in  part  by  the  destruction  of  weaker 
beings.  Few  persons  can  restrain  themselves  from  stop- 
ping to  watch  one  of  the  larger  so-called  hawks  soaring 
overhead  on  moveless,  expanded  pinions,  and  any  of  the 
larger  Eaptores  wandering  into  our  range  of  vision  is 
certain  to  attract  interested  notice.  In  the  days  of  chiv- 
alry, our  noble  ancestors  admired  the  courage  and  daring 
of  these  birds,  and  the  hawks  and  falcons  were  reckoned 
worthy  to  be  the  companions  of  the  noblest  lords  and 
ladies;  hence,  we  are  only  revealing  hereditary  traits 
when  we  follow  the  movements  of  the  falcon  dashing 
with  unerring  swiftness  upon  the  terror-stricken  quarry. 
Though  the  practice  of  falconry  passed  away  with  other 
less  noble  customs  of  chivalry,  we  still  admire  the  traits 
which  made  the  falcon  prized  in  earlier  days.  However, 
limited  knowledge  of  the  actual  habits  of  these  birds  in 
modern  times  has  infused  a  degree  of  popular  prejudice 
against  them.  The  sportsman  thinks  of  the  game  on 
which  they  are  reputed  to  prey,  and  hence  he  seldom 
loses  an  opportunity  to  destroy  any  of  the  rapacious  birds 
which  enter  the  range  of  his  gun.  These  birds  are  well 


Birds  of  Beak  and  Talon.  251 

known  to  the  farmer,  who  usually  considers  them  as  ene- 
mies of  the  poultry,  and  he  seeks  to  kill  them  whenever 
he  meets  them.  Even  writers  of  otherwise  undoubted 
accuracy  have  disseminated  views  not  supported  by  suffi- 
cient data,  and  have  thus  placed  the  majority  of  the  birds 
in  this  group  in  an  unfavorable  light.  Science  has  at  last 
investigated  the  food-habits  of  the  Kaptores  of  America, 
with  results  so  satisfactory  that  some  of  the  supposed 
enemies  of  agriculture  are  now  recognized  as  active  allies. 
Most  of  the  rapacious  birds  are  of  immense  utility  in  the 
destruction  of  small  noxious  rodents  and  other  vermin, 
and  the  wise  agriculturist  should  submit  to  the  occasional 
appropriation  of  a  chicken  by  an  ally  which  destroys  foes 
of  a  class  beyond  the  reach  of  other  agencies. 

The  larger  hawks,  or  true  buzzards,  which  sail  lazily 
over  the  barn-yard  and  occasion  a  panic  among  the  fowls, 
and  which  are  consequently  persecuted  by  the  well-mean- 
ing but  mistaken  farmer,  seldom  capture  a  chicken,  as 
their  approach  is  made  known  by  the  commotion  among 
the  brood,  and  the  fowls  have  time  to  run  to  cover.  The 
smaller  hawks,  or  falcons,  are  the  real  enemies  and  success- 
ful raiders  of  the  poultry-yard.  They  dart  swiftly  into 
the  yard  before  their  approach  is  noticed,  and  snatching 
up  the  most  promising  of  the  chicks,  escape  in  safety. 
They  are  rarely  detected,  much  less  caught,  while  the 
lazy  buzzard,  which  comes  sailing  along  at  that  juncture, 
receives  the  maledictions  of  the  farmer  and  his  wife.  The 
larger  so-called  "chicken  hawks"  are  classed  either  in 
the  beneficial  or  in  the  neutral  groups  by  the  thorough 
and  systematic  investigations  of  the  Department  of  Agri- 
culture. The  guilty  parties  are  the  "little  chicken  hawks," 
described  as  Cooper's  hawk,  the  sharp- shinned  hawk,  and 
other  less  common  species.  The  owls  have  also  hereto- 
fore been  thoughtlessly  placed  in  the  category  of  enemies 
of  agriculture,  and  have  experienced  the  persecution 
falling  to  the  lot  of  the  Kaptores;  but  the  investigation 
mentioned  shows  that  only  the  larger  owls  have  a  taste 
for  poultry,  and  that  the  screech  owl,  the  long-eared  owl, 
and  the  short-eared  owl  are  valuable  auxiliaries  of  the 
farmer  in  the  destruction  of  noxious  insects  and  vermin. 


252  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 


GEEAT  HOENED  OWL. 

The  study  of  the  birds  of  this  interesting  group  should 
be  begun  in  the  late  winter,  when  the  mournful  "tull-ull- 
loo  "  of  the  screech  owl  is  heard  in  the  apple  tree  near 
our  kitchen  door,  and  the  "  who-who-hoo-hoo "  of  the 
horned  owl  is  wafted  to  the  ears  of  the  residents  of  the 
wooded  regions.  With  the  rapid  clearing  of  the  forests 
from  the  borders  of  the  smaller  water-courses  of  this  sec- 
tion, the  great  horned  owls  have  ceased  to  be  abundant, 
and  in  this  locality  are  met  only  occasionally.  I  know 
of  only  one  pair  dwelling  at  present  in  my  home  town- 
ship. Their  home  is  in  a  thirty-acre  tract  of  timber  bor- 
dering a  shallow  creek,  and  they  are  so  harassed  by  hunt- 
ers and  crows  that  life  is  surely  a  burden  to  them.  How- 
ever, food  is  abundant,  for  the  tract  still  harbors  squirrels 
and  other  vermin,  and  therefore  I  suppose  they  are  con- 
tent to  remain. 

While  tramping  over  this  wooded  tract  one  fall,  I  daily 
startled  one  or  both  of  these  owls  from  their  morning  naps. 
They  see  well  in  the  daytime,  and  do  not  seem  incon- 
venienced by  the  light,  though  their  movements  among 
the  trees  are  rather  uncertain.  If  they  are  pursued,  a 
bare  limb  above  the  middle  point  of  a  large  tree  gener- 
ally attracts  them  for  a  new  perch,  and  the  lowest  point 
of  their  flight  is  reached  just  before  alighting.  When 
quiet  again  prevails,  they  seek  a  retreat  either  in  a  hollow 
tree  or  among  the  branches  of  a  bushy  tree,  the  latter 
being  commonly  preferred.  As  night  approaches,  they 
leave  their  resting-places  and  fly  forth  with  strong  flight 
in  wide  circles  over  the  treetops,  shrinking  from  no 
enemy,  and  fearlessly  manifesting  their  powerful  rapacious 
natures. 

For  birds  which  are  popularly  supposed  to  doze  during 
the  day,  these  owls  are  remarkably  wakeful  and  wary. 
It  was  a  difficult  matter  to  surprise  either  of  this  surviving 
pair  of  owls,  and  seldom  could  I  approach  within  easy 
observation  of  them.  The  moment  one  was  flushed,  a 
noisy  pack  of  crows  would  start  in  hot  pursuit.  When 
the  owl  alighted  the  crows  would  perch  on  all  sides 


GREAT   HORNED   OWL. 

From  life.     Copyright,  1892,  by  H.  W.  Minns. 


Great  Horned  Owl.  253 

of  him,  some  occasionally  flying  quite  close  and  making 
a  feint,  to  all  which  demonstrations  the  owl  was  su- 
premely indifferent.  Any  movement  on  his  part  would 
evoke  a  fresh  torrent  of  cries  and  abuse  from  the 
crows.  At  length,  having  exhausted  the  corvine  vo- 
cabulary of  epithets  and  scurrility,  and  being  tired 
of  deriding  that  which,  like  Diogenes,  would  not  be 
derided,  one  by  one  the  crows  would  abandon  the  siege 
and  seek  less  stoical  victims,  or  less  monotonous  amuse- 
ment. Whenever  I  entered  the  woods,  if  I  failed  to  flush 
one  of  the  owls  myself,  I  seldom  failed  to  discover  his 
particular  quarters  by  the  outcries  and  demonstrations 
of  the  crows.  I  frequently  wished  that  the  victim  might 
for  once  so  far  forget  his  dignity  as  to  lose  his  temper  and 
pounce  upon  one  of  his  tormentors,  that  I  might  witness  the 
hasty  scrambling  of  the  insolent  crowd  to  a  safe  distance. 
But  the  owl  is  long-suffering,  and  therefore  a  notable  pat- 
tern of  patient  endurance  in  persecution. 

Along  in  January  the  amorous  inclinations  of  the  male 
are  expressed  in  the  more  frequent  deep  bass  notes  it 
utters  as  the  short  winter  afternoons  begin  to  wane.  Out 
from  the  dusk  of  the  forestresounds  its  "  who, — ,  who,  who," 
in  heavy  tones.  The  space  between  the  first  and  second 
notes  of  its  call  represents  a  rest,  and  the  last  two  notes 
are  uttered  in  quicker  time.  Frequently  there  is  but  one 
note,  a  deep,  deliberate  hoot,  while  at  other  times  there 
are  two  hoots  pronounced  evenly  and  slowly.  Usually, 
however,  when  there  are  more  than  two  notes,  the  last 
two  are  enunciated  in  less  time  than  is  given  to  the  same 
number  of  preceding  ones. 

This  owl  leads  the  season  in  its  nidification.  It  chooses 
either  a  suitable  cavity  in  a  hollow  tree  in  heavy  timber, 
lowland  woods  being  preferred,  or  a  nest  used  in  preced- 
ing years  either  by  hawks  or  crows.  In  the  latter  case  the 
two  or  three  eggs  are  usually  deposited  on  the  bare  twigs 
in  the  slight  depression.  Sometimes,  however,  the  old 
nest  is  furnished  with  a  lining  of  dead  leaves,  moss,  and 
feathers.  February  and  March  are  the  months  for  deposit- 
ing and  incubating  the  eggs.  The  pair  mentioned  in  the 
opening  of  this  sketch  selected  a  hawk's  nest  of  the  pre- 
ceding season,  situated  thirty-five  feet  from  the  ground 


254  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

in  a  hickory  tree,  and  two  eggs  were  laid  by  February 
24th.  In  the  Oologist  for  March,  1893,  Charles  E.  Keyes, 
of  Mt.  Vernon,  Iowa,  furnishes  a  record  of  sets  found  in 
1892,  as  follows:  February  13th,  three  fresh  eggs;  Febru- 
ary 20th,  two  fresh  eggs;  February  29th,  two  eggs,  incu- 
bation far  advanced;  March  1st,  two  sets  of  two  eggs 
each,  slightly  incubated.  Of  these  six  nests,  five  were  in 
old  nests  of  hawks  and  crows,  and  one  was  in  a  hollow 
in  a  dead  oak.  The  height  of  the  nest  above  the  ground 
varies  from  thirty  to  ninety  feet.  The  eggs  are  white, 
and  ellipsoidal  in  shape,  averaging  2.18  inches  in  length 
by  1.80  inches  in  width. 

The  rapacity  of  this  powerful  nocturnal  marauder  makes 
its  presence  most  undesirable  in  any  neighborhood.  It  is  a 
famous  raider  of  open  chicken  roosts  near  its  haunts,  and 
its  midnight  forays  often  strike  with  consternation  the 
good  housewife  when  she  beholds  the  remains  of  her 
slaughtered  brood  on  some  fateful  morning.  Hares  and 
rabbits,  squirrels,  partridges,  smaller  birds,  mice,  frogs, 
and  moles,  with  other  delicacies,  all  find  their  way  into 
the  larder  of  this  robber  baron.  Should  he  espy  a  mink, 
weasel,  raccoon,  or  skunk  engaged  like  himself  in  a  noc- 
turnal foray,  he  is  not  withheld  by  the  reputed  "honor 
among  thieves"  from  seizing  the  prey  and  tucking  it 
away  in  his  game-bag  as  a  luncheon  for  Mrs.  Bubo  and 
her  offspring.  Fragments  and  bones  of  all  the  above 
animals  have  been  noted  about  the  home  of  this  owl, 
indicating  its  general  preferences  in  its  regular  bill  of 
fare. 

The  habitat  of  the  great  horned  owl  is  all  of  North 
America  east  of  the  great  plains.  It  prefers  the  denser 
woods  and  the  old  growths  of  the  undisturbed  forests, 
and  becomes  so  attached  to  any  neighborhood  that  it  will 
remain  for  years  even  when  the  nest  is  annually  harried. 
In  Ornithologist  and  Oologist  for  September,  1883,  F.  H. 
Carpenter  records  his  finding  a  set  of  eggs  annually  for 
eleven  years  in  the  same  nest;  but  the  woodsman's  axe 
finally  destroyed  the  home  of  the  owls. 


YOUNG    RED-TAILED    HAWKS. 

From  life.    Copyright,  1892,  by  H.  W.  Minns. 


Red- Tailed  Hawk.  255 


BED-TAILED  HAWK. 

None  of  the  hawks  has  suffered  more  undeserved  per- 
secution than  has  the  red-tailed  buzzard  or  hawk,  whose 
characteristics  place  it  among  the  ignoble  falcons,  or 
hawks,  of  feudal  times.  Lacking  the  swiftness  and  im- 
petuosity of  attack  peculiar  to  the  true  falcons,  it  depends 
on  its  ability  to  surprise  its  prey  and  drop  upon  it  when 
unable  to  escape.  Its  robust  frame,  dignified  carriage, 
and  power  of  sustained  flight,  render  it  little  inferior  to 
the  lordly  eagle  himself,  except  in  size  and  strength. 
Indeed,  in  refinement  of  manner  and  in  general  habits,  it 
is  far  more  worthy  to  symbolize  our  republic  than  the 
piratical  and  indiscriminating  eagle.  Being  a  permanent 
resident,  it  is  at  all  times  to  be  found  in  suitable  localities. 
It  is  the  winter  hawk  of  this  section.  How  happily  has 
it  been  entitled  borealis !  When  the  boreal  breath  has 
overspread  the  face  of  nature  with  snow  and  ice,  this 
buzzard  hawk  of  the  north  demonstrates  its  right  to  its 
specific  title  by  floating  calmly  in  the  upper  height,  or 
sitting  unaffected  by  the  searching  wind.  The  coldest 
days  of  January  serve  to  give  this  hawk  a  keener  eye 
and  a  deeper  zest  for  the  chase.  On  a  sharp  morning  in 
winter,  when  the  mercury  was  standing  at  twenty  degrees 
below  zero,  I  saw  a  noble  individual  of  this  species  sitting 
motionless  in  the  top  of  a  solitary  cottonwood  in  the  mid- 
dle of  a  snow-covered  pasture,  quietly  surveying  the  sub- 
jacent fields  for  venturesome  rabbits  and  quail.  Through 
the  winter  its  attachment  to  particular  trees  is  noticeable, 
and  in  these  trees  it  can  usually  be  seen  when  it  is  not 
sailing  above  the  tree-tops  and  fields  in  wide  circles.  As 
a  usual  thing  it  does  not  sit  in  the  summit  of  a  tree,  but 
generally  chooses  a  perch  in  one  side  the  tree  about 
two-thirds  the  height  of  the  branching  portion,  always, 
however,  in  a  favorable  position  to  view  its  surroundings. 

On  the  genial  days  of  early  spring  these  hawks  at- 
tract special  attention,  the  greater  activity  of  their  usual 
quarry  inducing  them  to  discover  more  boldness  and 
familiarity.  The  individuals  which  have  migrated  further 
south  for  the  winter  are  then  returning  and  supplement 


256  Sketches  of  Some  Common  -Birds. 

the  numbers  of  the  permanent  residents.  Their  shrill 
cries,  which  can  be  represented  by  the  syllables  "kee-oo," 
are  then  heard  ringing  over  the  woods  as  the  birds  flap 
from  their  perches  and  begin  to  mount  in  their  skyward 
spirals.  When  they  careen  like  a  ship  caught  by  the  wind, 
the  bright  chestnut  of  the  upper  side  of  the  tail  shows 
to  advantage  and  serves  to  distinguish  them  from  their 
congeners. 

In  the  late  winter  or  early  spring  the  shocks  of  corn 
that  have  been  left  standing  in  the  fields  are  removed  to 
clear  the  ground  for  the  new  crop.  If  there  is  a  high 
tree  or  other  suitable  perch  in  the  field,  one  or  more  of 
these  hawks  can  often  be  seen  waiting  for  the  uncovering 
of  the  mice  hidden  in  the  shocks.  Regardless  of  the 
farmer's  proximity,  they  will  frequently  sail  down  and 
capture  a  luckless  mouse,  returning  to  their  perch  to  await 
the  uncovering  of  another  victim.  It  is  characteristic 
of  the  hawks  to  lose  much  of  their  usual  wariness  when 
they  are  in  pursuit  of  their  prey,  and  on  such  occasions 
they  often  unwittingly  enter  the  range  of  the  collector's 
gun,  thus  forfeiting  their  lives  for  their  rapacity.  Though 
they  are  more  or  less  common  in  all  wooded  regions  of 
North  America,  they  are  wary  in  eluding  human  enemies, 
usually  leaving  their  perch  and  soaring  high,  far  beyond 
gunshot,  at  the  appearance  of  suspected  persons.  In  the 
less  thickly  settled  regions  of  the  far  west  they  are  said 
to  show  less  wariness  and  to  evince  more  of  curiosity  than 
of  suspicion  at  the  approach  of  man. 

At  all  seasons  these  hawks  are  harassed  by  the  crows, 
from  whom  they  escape  by  mounting  in  the  air  in  irreg- 
ular spirals  to  heights  where  the  ignoble  crows  become 
dizzy  and  decline  to  follow.  They  make  no  other  efforts 
to  elude  or  repel  the  assaults  of  their  tormentors,  though 
in  ordinary  altitudes  one  or  more  of  the  crows  will  fre- 
quently rise  above  them  and  keep  striking  them.  I  once 
watched  a  single  crow  attack  one  of  these  hawks,  and  as 
the  hawk  arose  the  crow,  which  had  already  gained  the 
upper  air,  easily  kept  the  advantage  by  mounting  in  the 
same  manner,  striking  the  hawk  at  every  turn.  I  began 
to  admire  the  courage  and  persistency  of  the  crow,  when 
his  spirit  apparently  failed  him,  and  abandoning  the  bat- 


YOUNG    RED-TAILED    HAWK. 

From  life.     Copyright,  1892,  by  H.  W.  Minns. 


Red-Tailed  Hawk.  257 

tie,  he  quickly  descended  in  an  oblique  line.  Is  it  not 
strange  that  the  larger  hawks  and  owls  will  submit  to  be 
harassed  by  such  arrant  cowards  as  the  crows?  They 
appear  simply  to  ignore  their  assailants,  and  to  rise  above 
such  petty  annoyances  with  quiet  dignity,  disdaining  to 
strike  a  blow  in  return,  whereas  a  single  demonstration 
would  cause  their  enemies  to  turn  tail  and  hurry  out  of 
harm's  way. 

The  red-tailed  hawk  can  commonly  be  seen  perched  in 
the  higher  trees  along  the  borders  of  wooded  slopes  and 
woods-pastures,  usually  within  reach  of  creeks  or  ponds, 
from  whose  margins  it  can  pick  up  an  occasional  frog  or 
snake.  Woods  bordering  fields  and  meadows,  from  which 
it  can  procure  gophers,  moles,  and  mice,  on  which  it 
chiefly  feeds,  are  favorite  resorts,  and  in  the  woods  it  finds 
squirrels  and  other  rodents,  as  well  as  the  birds  which 
it  only  occasionally  surprises  and  captures.  Its  slow, 
steady  flight  prevents  it  from  pursuing  and  capturing 
smaller  birds  on  the  wing.  "When  taking  its  prey  from 
the  ground,  it  often  hovers  over  the  intended  quarry  for 
a  moment  with  beating  wings  and  extended  feet,  its  body 
being  nearly  vertical.  It  seldom  visits  the  barnyard  to 
prey  upon  the  poultry,  but  it  will  pick  up  a  stray  fowl 
which  it  meets  away  from  its  yard  and  unable  to  find 
cover.  However,  hunger  sometimes  impels  this  hawk  to 
show  much  boldness  in  seeking  to  replenish  its  larder. 

As  young  rabbits  and  squirrels  are  just  beginning  to 
shift  for  themselves  when  the  young  red-tails  are  more 
pressing  in  their  demands  for  food,  they  are  the  usual 
prey  of  the  red-tailed  hawks  at  this  season.  In  bis  "Birds 
of  Kansas,"  Colonel  Goss  states  ttiat  when  soaring  at  high 
altitudes  in  the  warmer  summer  days,  these  hawks  will 
fill  their  craws  with  grasshoppers  likewise  flying  high  in 
the  air.  They  seldom  eat  what  they  have  not  themselves 
captured  and  killed,  though  Mr.  George  P.  Elliott,  in  an 
article  on  the  red-tailed  hawk  in  Ornithologist  and  Oologist, 
Vol.  xi.,  page  35,  tells  of  a  pair  feeding  on  the  carcass  of 
an  animal-  captured  in  a  farmer's  trap,  the  birds  them- 
selves being  taken  later  by  this  bait  in  the  trap.  The 
same  person,  describing  their  method  of  capturing  squir- 
rels, says:  "When  two  of  the  birds  are  hunting  together, 
17 


258  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

as  is  frequently  the  case,  the  usual  mode  of  capture  is  that 
one  of  the  hawks  will  drive  the  squirrel  around  the  tree 
while  the  other  bird  poises  to  seize  it  as  it  dodges  around 
to  avoid  the  first  hawk." 

This  hawk  breeds  earlier  than  any  other.  Nidification 
begins  some  time  after  the  middle  of  February,  generally 
about  the  first  of  March.  The  eggs  are  usually  deposited 
in  the  latter  half  of  March  in  this  section.  In  New  Eng- 
land the  time  of  nesting  is  somewhat  later.  Its  nest  is 
commonly  placed  in  one  of  the  highest  trees  in  the  locality 
it  frequents,  and  the  refurnishing  of  an  old  structure  of 
former  years  is  preferable  to  the  labor  of  building  a  new 
home.  When  no  old  nest  is  at  hand  in  a  suitable  site,  it 
makes  a  nest  of  coarse  twigs  and  sticks,  mingling  with 
these  materials  dried  grass,  leaves,  moss,  corn-husks,  and 
a  few  feathers.  The  cavity  is  generally  less  than  two 
inches  deep  and  ten  or  eleven  inches  across,  though  the 
nest  is  quite  bulky,  and  if  reoccupied  for  successive 
seasons,  it  generally  becomes  somewhat  enlarged  each 
year  by  the  addition  of  similar  materials.  One  season  I 
found  a  nest  that  was  lined  with  cottonwood  bark,  and 
the  next  year  the  same  nest  was  extensively  refurnished 
with  oorn -husks.  Few  birds  nest  higher  in  trees  than  the 
red-tailed  hawk.  Eobert  Eidgway,  in  "Natural  History 
Survey  of  Illinois,"  tells  of  a  nest  ninety  feet  from  the 
ground  in  a  black  gum  tree  in  southern  Illinois.  A  set 
of  two  eggs  was  taken  on  March  21,  1895,  from  a  nest 
eighty-five  feet  from  the  ground  in  a  huge  shell-bark 
hickory.  The  same  season  a  set  of  two  eggs  was  found 
in  a  nest  eighty-six  feet  from  the  ground  in  a  giant  syca- 
more, and  the  next  ye"ar  a  set  of  three  eggs  was  taken 
from  the  same  nest.  In  the  Oologist  for  November,  1892, 
Mr.  J.  Warren  Jacobs  describes  a  nest  in  a  shell-bark 
hickory  ninety  feet  above  the  ground,  and  in  the  same 
journal  of  July,  1892,  Mr.  Albert  Garrett  says  that  he  has 
found  the  nest  at  various  heights  ranging  between  thirty- 
nine  and  eighty-six  feet,  all  actually  measured.  Other 
observers  attest  to  the  high  location  of  the  nests  of  this 
species,  and  to  the  almost  inaccessible  sites  ordinarily 
chosen. 

The  eggs  are  usually  two  in  number,  but  three  are  fre- 


Red- Shouldered  Hawk.  259 

quently  found  in  the  complement.  Of  105  sets  reported 
to  Mr.  F.  H.  Carpenter  as  found  in  New  England,  42 
were  of  two  eggs  each,  and  63  were  of  three  eggs  each. 
Colonel  Gross  states  that  the  eggs  in  a  set  number  three  or 
four.  The  eggs  also  vary  greatly  in  color,  from  a  dull 
white  to  bluish -white,  or  rarely  greenish-white  ground, 
variously  and  irregularly  marked  with  shades  of  brown, 
drab,  and  purple,  though  most  commonly  as  with  weak 
solutions  of  these  colors.  Sometimes  the  eggs  are  un- 
marked. 


KED-SHOULDEKED   HAWK. 

This  mild-spirited  congener  of  the  red-tailed  hawk  has 
generally  received  less  notice  than  its  character  merits, 
owing  to  the  similarity  of  its  habits  and  appearance  to 
those  of  the  fiercer  species  last  sketched.  Seen  at  a  dis- 
tance these  two  buzzards  closely  resemble  each  other,  but 
the  red-shouldered  hawk  is  less  robust  in  outline,  and 
consequently  seems  the  smaller,  yet  it  is  only  a  trifle  less 
in  length  and  expanse  of  wing.  In  many  localities  it  is 
more  common  than  the  red-tailed  hawk,  while  in  other 
regions  apparently  as  well  adapted  to  its  needs,  it  seems 
to  be  less  common.  Doubtless  the  two  species  are  often 
confounded  by  careless  or  superficial  observers,  and  one 
may  receive  praise  or  censure  deserved  by  the  other. 
Since  the  red-tailed  buzzard  begins  its  nesting  while  the 
trees  are  yet  bare,  it  generally  attracts  more  attention  to 
its  habits  than  the  red-shouldered  hawk,  which  often 
delays  its  nidification  until  the  unfolding  leaves  conceal 
its  operations.  It  is  probable  that  more  individuals  of 
this  species  migrate  from  this  section  in  the  fall,  and  that 
more  of  the  red-tailed  hawks  remain  through  the  winter, 
though  in  the  east  the  red-shouldered  hawk  is  commonly 
known  as  the  "winter  hawk."  According  to  Mr.  Thomas 
Mcllwraith,  in  his  "Birds  of  Ontario,"  the  red-tailed  buz- 
zard is  resident  in  that  Province,  while  the  red-shouldered 
buzzard  has  not  been  observed  during  the  winter.  Colonel 
Goss,  in  his  "Birds  of  Kansas,"  says  that  both  species  are 
resident  in  that  State. 


260  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

The  red-shouldered  hawk  i.s  partial  to  the  borders  of 
woods  and  to  isolated  trees  in  fields  and  meadows  for  its 
post  of  observation,  and  in  such  situations  it  can  often  be 
seen  "  waiting  for  something  to  turn  up."  In  thickly 
settled  regions  it  has  learned  to  be  wary  and  to  eye  with 
suspicion  the  approaching  lords  of  creation,  though  in  the 
thicker  woods  it  frequently  alights  within  reach  of  favor- 
able observation  when  unaware  of  one's  presence.  This 
hawk  is  more  noisy  than  the  red-tail,  having  a  similar  cry, 
but  often  repeating  it  many  times  at  short  intervals, 
especially  when  harassed  by  a  group  of  braggart  crows. 
In  early  spring  its  cries,  uttered  as  it  sails  low  over  the  tree 
tops,  vibrate  through  its  wooded  quarters,  and  are  regular 
features  of  woodland  life,  always  awakening  the  notice 
of  the  lover  of  birds.  These  shrill  vernal  calls  are  usually 
the  first  intimations  to  the  strolling  bird-gazer  that  he  has 
reached  the  domains  of  a  pair  of  these  birds,  and  looking 
upward  he  sees  that 

"  O'erhead  the  balanced  hen-hawk  slides, 
Twinned  in  the  river's  heaven  below." 

The  blue  jays  are  adepts  at  imitating  these  cries,  executing 
them  with  less  force  and  a  greater  degree  of  harshness 
than  the  real  authors,  though  their  version  is  enough  like 
the  original  to  deceive  the  inexperienced  ear  of  the  novice. 
These  cries  are  the  love  notes  of  the  rough  troubadour, 
and  are  seldom  heard  after  incubation  begins,  the  silence 
of  this  hawk  after  that  time  being  in  marked  contrast  to 
its  noisy  demonstrations  during  the  mating  and  breeding 
time.  After  the  young  are  hatched,  however,  the  cries 
are  again  heard,  the  quarters  of  a  family  of  old  and  young 
birds  being  readily  determined  by  their  cries. 

"Wooded  swamps,  groves  inhabited  by  squirrels,  and 
patches  of  low  timber,  are  regular  resorts  of  the  red- 
shouldered  hawk.  It  is  a  bountiful  provider  for  the  wants 
of  its  young.  Quoting  again  from  "J.  M.  W.,"  Norwich, 
Conn.,  we  find  these  statements  of  interest:  "Every  one  who 
has  climbed  to  nests  of  young  buteos  nearly  fledged  must 
have  been  astonished  at  the  great  quantity  of  these  young 
rodents  supplied  by  the  parent  birds.  In  one  nest  of  red- 
tailed  hawks  I  have  seen  portions  of  nine  red  squirrels, 


Red -Shouldered  Hawk.  261 

and  from  another  have  counted  out  on  the  ground  seven 
entire  bodies.  A  game  bird  or  chicken  now  and  then, 
but  red  squirrels  for  every-day  bill-of-fare.  Mousing, 
Master  Buteo  will  go.  And  frogging,  too,  for  I  have  sev- 
eral times  surprised  him  in  muddy  sloughs  in  the  woods, 
and  field  collectors  often  are  called  to  notice  the  black  mud 
on  fresh  hawks'  eggs.  Given  then  a  great  food  supply,  and 
the  species  that  follow  it  will  be  abundant.  Over  the 
grove  of  second  growths  to  the  left  of  Love  Lane,  last 
spring,  I  saw  a  pair  of  red-shouldered  hawks  hovering 
for  days  in  succession.  1  knew  they  were  not  breeding 
in  the  patch,  as  they  had  not  done  so  in  former  years, 
and  there  were  but  three  old  crows'  nests,  very  low  down. 
But  to  be  very  sure,  I  examined  the  grove  repeatedly 
with  care,  and  found  it  to  be  alive  with  red  squirrels.  In 
one  apple-tree  hole  was  a  litter  of  six ;  in  the  butt  of  an 
oak  were  five  with  eyes  unopened,  and  the  conspicuous 
outside  nests  were  many.  A  barred  owl  clung  to  the 
top  of  a  white  birch  with  one  claw,  and  was  tearing  away 
at  a  squirrel's  new  domed  nest  with  the  other  claw.  The 
hawks  had  their  nest  with  two  young  in  the  swamp  beyond, 
and  this  grove  was  their  handy  larder,  and  very  noisy 
they  were  over  their  daily  grace  before  meat."* 

Dr.  Fisher,  whose  careful  investigations  have  placed 
the  rapacious  birds  of  America  in  their  true  character 
before  the  world,  says:  "The  diet  of  the  red-shouldered 
hawk  is  probably  more  varied  than  that  of  most  other 
birds  of  prey.  For  example,- the  writer  has  found  in  the 
stomachs  of  the  different  individuals  which  have  come 
under  his  notice  the  remains  of  mammals,  birds,  snakes, 
frogs,  fishes,  insects,  centipedes,  spiders,  crawfish,  earth- 
worms, and  snails,  which  represent  eleven  classes  of  ani- 
mal life.  This  hawk  is  very  fond  of  frogs,  and  although 
these  batrachians  are  mentioned  by  Audubon  and  other 
writers  as  forming  a  very  considerable  portion  of  their 
sustenance,  yet  mice  furnish  fully  sixty-five  per  cent,  of 
their  food."  The  last  statement  should  cause  the  enemies 
of  this  hawk  to  reflect  before  killing  it  mercilessly  at  every 
opportunity,  yet  the  following  paragraph  is  still  more 

•Ornithologist  and  Oologist,  Vol.  viii.,  page  17. 


262  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

positive  proof  that  the  species  has  been  most  unjustly 
persecuted.  The  writer  says:  "Besides  this  very  injurious 
group  of  rodents,  other  small  mammals,  such  as  young 
squirrels,  young  rabbits,  shrews,  and  moles,  are  often 
taken.  Some  authors  insist  that  the  red -shouldered  hawk 
is  destructive  to  poultry,  but  the  writer  in  all  his  field 
experience  has  never  seen  one  attack  a  fowl,  nor  has  he 
found  the  remains  of  one  in  the  stomachs  of  those  exam- 
ined." Other  observers,  however,  note  that  this  hawk 
does  occasionally  prey  on  stray  fowls  from  the  yard,  but 
this  item  is  not  of  sufficient  importance  to  warrant  its 
popular  names  of  "chicken  hawk  "  and  "hen  hawk."  In 
"Birds  of  Kansas,"  Colonel  Gross  says  of  this  species  on 
this  point  that  it  is  quite  destructive  to  domestic  fowls 
raised  in  or  near  the  timber,  but  does  not  appear  to  search 
for  food  far  away  from  its  natural  resorts. 

The  red-shouldered  hawk  is  commonly  from  two  to 
three  weeks  later  in  its  nidification  than  the  red-tailed 
species.  It  seems  that  in  this  section  the  eggs  are  gener- 
ally deposited  between  the  first  and  the  middle  of  April, 
though  there  are  frequent  instances  of  later  nesting.  In 
New  England  most  first  sets  of  eggs  are  iound  from  the 
tenth  to  the  twenty -fifth  of  April. 

The  basis  of  the  nest  is  generally  the  work  of  crows  in 
preceding  years,  in  which  case  the  nest  is  usually  re- 
touched and  a  supply  of  feathers  is  added.  When  the 
hawks  are  the  builders,  the  nest  is  made  of  rough  sticks, 
husks,  moss,  and  strips  of  bark,  lined  as  the  work  pro- 
gresses with  feathers  from  the  breast  of  the  female.  These 
feathers  are  an  important  index  of  the  progress  of  affairs 
in  this  wildwood  home,and  they  are  often  found  adhering 
to  the  bushes  in  the  vicinity  of  the  nest.  The  buzzard 
hawks  are  noted  for  the  attachment  they  demonstrate  to 
particular  nesting  sites.  They  seem  to  feel  that  there  is 
no  place  like  home,  for  they  will  submit  to  spoliation  year 
after  year  and  still  return  to  the  same  site  and  attempt  to 
rear  a  brood.  Colonel  Gross  says:  "They  seem  to  be  greatly 
attached  to  the  grounds  selected  fora  home,  and  vigilantly 
guard  the  same,  not  allowing  a  bird  of  prey  to  forage 
within  their  claimed  limits;  they  also  nest  for  years  in 
the  same  tree." 


Red- Shouldered  Hawk.  263 

Concerning  the  size  of  the  nest  complement  of  this 
species,  "  J.  M.  W.,"  the  best  authority  in  America  on  the 
breeding  habits  of  the  native  buzzard-hawks,  avers  that 
young  females  produce  sets  of  three  and  occasionally  four 
eggs,  while  the  older  females  deposit  only  two  eggs.  In 
length  the  eggs  vary  from  2.28  to  1.92  inches,  and  in  width 
from  1.80  to  1.29  inches.  The  eggs  vary  in  color  from  a 
pure  white  ground  to  bluish-white,  marked  in  almost 
endless  variations  with  umber,  drab,  chestnut,  russet,  and 
fawn,  in  clouds,  blotches,  and  streaks,  and  even  small 
spots.  Unmarked  eggs  of  this  species  are  rarer  than  such 
eggs  of  the  red-tailed  hawk. 

The  lover  of  nature  who  seeks  his  mistress  in  her  wood- 
land walks  can  witness  to  the  dignified  deportment  and 
good-natured  superiority  of  these  forest  nobles.  As  we 
enter  their  manorial  groves  they  shrill  their  bugle  calls, 
and  may  be  seen  flapping  slowly  and  heavily  over  the 
tops  of  the  forest  trees.  The  first  movements  of  their 
flight  are  labored.  They  flap  along  for  a  short  distance, 
and  then  veering  sharply  in  a  small  arc,  sail  in  an  oblique, 
upward  line,  from  the  impetus  of  the  four  or  five  rapid 
strokes  of  their  strong  pinions.  Screaming  their  notes 
of  anger  or  exultation,  they  again  flap  and  sail  as  before, 
mounting  in  a  series  of  oblique  arcs,  seeming  to  acquire 
more  ease  and  buoyancy  as  they  ascend,  until  they  are 
borne  on  unmoving  wings  along  the  circumferences  of  still 
expanding  circles.  There  they  float  in  the  tranquil  heights, 
drifting  farther  and  farther  from  the  neighborhood.  Who 
that  loves  freedom  and  respects  unassuming  power  can 
desist  from  gazing  after  them  with  interest  and  even 
admiration  ?  Truly  they  are  representatives  of  the  feudal 
times  when  might,  not  right,  held  sway.  Or  shall  we 
say  that  it  is  might  with  right  that  characterizes  their 
woodland  rule? 


261  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 


AMERICAX  OSPREY. 

Those  persons  who  live  far  inland,  or  beyond  the 
vicinity  of  the  great  lakes  and  larger  rivers,  and  who 
have  never  visited  the  resorts  of  the  osprey,  may  have 
little  interest  in  its  habits.  However,  it  is  scarcely  infe- 
rior to  the  eagles  in  the  attributes  of  nobility.  It  is  fre- 
quently styled  the  fish  eagle,  and  the  title  is  not  inappro- 
priate, for  it  possesses  many  noble  instincts.  In  strength, 
powers  of  flight,  and  food  habits,  it  is  worthy  a  position 
among  its  more  pretentious  relatives.  Unlike  the  eagles, 
the  osprey  is  regularly  migratory,  and  as  the  herald  of  the 
fishing  season  and  the  period  of  activity  and  consequent 
plenty  to  the  toilers  with  net  and  seine,  the  annual  return 
of  the  osprey  is  eagerly  watched.  Of  its  regularity  in 
migration,  the  great  ornithologist  and  poet,  Alexander 
Wilson,  speaks  in  this  couplet: 

"  True  to  the  season,  o'er  our  sea-beat  shore 
The  sailing  osprey  high  is  seen  to  soar." 

In  truth,  few  other  rapacious  birds  discover  so  many 
agreeable  and  excellent  traits,  and  we  do  not  wonder  that 
the  osprey  is  held  in  high  esteem  by  the  fishermen  and 
farmers  of  the  Atlantic  seaboard  and  other  localities  where 
it  is  commonly  found. 

The  osprey  is  distributed  throughout,  nearly  all  the 
temperate  regions  of  the  world,  and  persons  who  frequent 
the  seashore,  both  in  the  Old  and  the  New  World,  learn 
to  associate  the  form  and  flight  of  the  species  with  other 
sights  of  the  seaboard.  Its  familiarity  admits  of  a  satis- 
factory study  of  its  appearance  and  manners.  A  promi- 
nent characteristic  is  the  large  development  of  the  feet 
and  claws — surely  a  wonderful  adaptation  to  its  food-hab- 
its, as  the  bird  can  exert  a  strong  grasp  on  its  slippeiy 
prey  and  thus  hold  it  securely  in  flight.  Other  noticeable 
features  are  the  firmness  of  the  plumage  and  the  unusu- 
ally close  connection  of  the  overlapping  feathers,  which 
are  kept  well  oiled.  In  fact,  the  covering  of  this  hardy 
fisher  is  just  such  a  diving-suit  as  the  bird  needs  for  the 
frequent  plunges  it  makes  in  pursuit  of  its  food,  amply 


American  Osprey,  265 

protecting  its  body  from  contact  with  the  water.  In 
appearance  it  somewhat  resembles  the  bald  eagle,  for  its 
head  and  neck  are  white,  as  well  as  its  under  parts,  though 
it  lacks  the  white  tail  of  the  eagle.  Instead  of  the  flow- 
ing plumage  found  on  the  flanks  of  the  eagles  and  larger 
hawks,  the  osprey  has  the  tibiae  closely  feathered — another 
adaptation  to  its  piscivorous  habits,  for  the  feathery  "  flags  " 
would  absorb  water  and.th  us  hinder  the  upward  movement 
of  the  bird  laden  with  its  prey. 

The  social  disposition  of  the  ospreys  is  in  marked  con- 
trast to  the  more  reserved  life  of  the  eagles.  Even  in 
their  migration  they  discover  their  love  of  company. 
When  the  first  arrival  of  the  season  is  descried  soaring 
far  up  in  the  sky,  usually  others  can  be  seen  circling  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  the  flute-like  call  of  the  first  is 
repeated  by  others  within  hearing.  They  seem  to  time 
their  arrival  at  any  given  point  with  the  appearance  of 
the  large  shoals  of  fishes,  which  constitute  their  chief  food, 
and  which  apprise  the  fishermen  that  their  vocation  must 
be  resumed  after  the  months  of  enforced  idleness.  In 
"  Our  Birds  in  Their  Haunts,"  Mr.  Langille  says  that 
their  vernal  and  autumnal  migrations  along  the  middle 
districts  of  the  Atlantic  seem  singularly  coincident  with 
the  equinoxes,  as  they  arrive  about  the  twenty-first  of 
March  and  depart  about  the  twent}^-third  of  September. 
In  "Birds  of  Ontario,"  Thomas  Mcll  wraith  thus  writes 
concerning  their  migrations:  "The  fish  hawks  arrive  in 
Ontario  as  soon  as  the  ice  breaks  up  in  the  spring,  and 
are  soon  distributed  over  the  country.  Here  and  there 
in  Ontario  and  elsewhere,  a  pair  will  settle  and  remain 
for  the  summer,  but  many  of  them  do  not  slack  in  their 
northern  flight  till  they  are  within  the  arctic  circle,  where 
they  rear  their  young  on  the  banks  of  the  clear  streams 
of  the  interior,  and  along  the  Yukon  Kiver  in  Alaska. 
Only  one  brood  is  raised  in  the  season,  and  in  the  fall 
they  again  work  their  way  south,  calling  at  many  inter- 
mediate stations.  In  southern  Ontario  they  are  seen  dur- 
ing October,  but  continue  their  southern  route  by  easy 
stages,  till  many  of  them  reach  the  West  Indies  and 
northern  South  America,  where  they  soon  again  prepare 
for  the  spring  trip."  They  are  recorded  as  "rather  rare" 


266  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

in  "Birds  of  Michigan."  They  probably  are  not  often 
seen  in  Illinois, -except  along  the  Mississippi,  the  Ohio, 
and  the  region  bordering  Lake  Michigan,  when  not  on 
migration,  though  in  the  locality  last  mentioned  they 
are  not  uncommon. 

The  osprey  lives  almost  exclusively  on  fish,  and  for  this 
reason  it  has  been  placed  (by  the  investigations  of  the 
United  States  Department  of  Agriculture)  in  the  class 
of  those  rapacious  birds  whose  habits  are  more  harmful 
than  beneficial.  Its  movements,  when  scanning  the  water 
below  for  its  prey,  are  very  similar  to  those  of  the  spar- 
row hawk.  Frequently  it  arrests  its  flight  above  a  par- 
ticular spot  or  floating  object,  and  maintaining  its  position 
by  steadily  flapping  its  wings,  remains  stationary  for  a  few 
moments  before  it  resumes  its  flight  or  plunges  boldly 
into  the  water  for  the  fish  it  has  perceived.  At  times  it 
sails  with  almost  motionless  pinions,  the  unusually  large 
extent  and  the  noticeable  curvature  of  the  wings  being 
characteristic  features  which  aid  in  its  identification  and 
which  suggest  its  wonderful  powers  of  flight.  Often  while 
thus  soaring  the  osprey  dashes  down  almost  to  the  water, 
and  when  about  to  touch  it,  glides  along  the  surface,  or 
turns  upwards  as  abruptly  as  it  descended,  sometimes 
wheeling  about  in  circles  of  no  larger  diameter  than  its 
own  expanded  pinions  will  compass.  Its  perpendicular 
descents  from  great  heights,  dropping  as  it  does  and  sub- 
merging itself  for  several  seconds,  accompanied  by  a  strong 
roaring  sound  and  a  tremendous  splashing  of  the  water 
and  spray,  are  most  thrilling  sights,  which  can  not  fail  to 
excite  respect  for  this  remarkable  bird.  It  is  not  always 
successful  in  its  attempts,  however,  and  frequently  it  will 
make  many  plunges  into  the  waves  before  it  seizes  a 
victim,  which  it  invariably  captures  with  its  talons  and 
carries  with  the  head  foremost. 

After  the  expenditure  of  so  much  energy  and  the  mani- 
festation of  so  much  perseverance,  it  seems  that  the  per- 
sistent fisher  should  be  allowed  to  enjoy  the  proceeds 
of  its  toil  without  molestation.  However,  sometimes  the 
osprey  has  scarcely  emerged  from  the  cloud  of  spray  and 
shaken  the  water  from  its  oily  plumage,  ere  the  bald  eagle 
is  in  determined  pursuit.  Though  the  osprey  is  much 


American  Osprey.  267 

swifter  in  flight  than  the  eagle,  it  foolishly  attempts  to 
escape  by  rising  with  its  burden.  Its  pursuer,  unencum- 
bered and  fresh  for  the  chase,  screams  its  challenge  and 
wheels  ever  nearer  in  narrowing  circles,  its  unmoving 
pinions  presenting  a  marked  contrast  to  the  rapidly  flap- 
ping wings  of  the  despairing  osprey.  At  the  last  moment, 
when  the  victorious  eagle  is  about  to  strike  the  vanquished 
osprey  from  above,  the  latter  relinquishes  its  prey  with  a 
wild  cry  of  anger,  and  the  thrilling  performance  has  ended, 
unless  the  eagle  swoops  in  the  path  of  the  swiftly  falling 
fish  and  attempts  to  take  it  for  his  own  use.  The  osprey 
never  seems  to  think  of  retaking  it,  even  when  it  falls 
on  the  ground  where  it  can  be  easily  recovered. 

Where  the  circumstances  are  favorable,  the  ospreys  nest 
in  colonies.  Along  the  Atlantic  seaboard  there  are  many 
colonies  containing  from  fifty  to  two  hundred  nests.  The 
nests  are  made  of  coarse  sticks,  and  are, used  from  year  to 
year,  if  not  destroyed,  growing  larger  each  year  by  the 
addition  of  new  materials,  until  sometimes  the  nests  are 
five  or  six  feet  in  height  and  nearly  as  wide.  Some 
observers  report  that  when  a  new  nest  is  to  be  made  in  a 
colony  many  birds  sometimes  participate  in  the  effort,  and 
apparently  enjoy  an  old-fashioned  " bee,"  or  "raising."  At 
such  times  the  birds  perform  wonderful  aerial  evolutions. 
It  is  not  an  unusual  thing  to  see  one  of  the  birds  drop  the 
stick  he  is  carrying,  with  no  other  apparent  purpose  than 
to  exhibit  his  dexterity  in  swooping  down  and  catching  it 
in  air,  which  is  done  with  the  same  ease  with  which  the 
schoolboy  tosses  up  a  stick  and  catches  it  as  it  turns.  I  have 
seen  the  tree  swallow,  whose  nest  had  been  harried,  sweep 
around  the  neighborhood  and  catch  the  floating  fragments 
of  her  home  in  her  mouth,  when  the  feathers  of  which 
her  domicile  had  been  composed  were  floating  on  the  air, 
but  such  evolutions  in  the  movements  of  the  larger  rapa- 
cious birds  are  unusually  interesting.  At  times  the  osprey 
evinces  its  pleasure  in  lofty  aerial  manoeuvers  by  pausing 
in  its  easy  onward  sailing,  and  mounting  upward  for 
several  yards  by  strong  flappings  of  its  wings,  pitching 
forward  with  motionless  pinions  and  quickly  descending 
to  its  former  level,  staying  its  downward  progress  by  sud- 


268  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

denly  expanding  its  wings  and  gently  inclining  its  body 
upward. 

The  nest  of  the  osprey  possesses  little  external  beauty. 
The  mass  of  sticks,  twigs,  and  various  sorts  of  rubbish  is 
piled  together  with  a  view  to  service  and  durability.  The 
structure  is  lined  with  twigs,  grass,  bark,  sea- weed,  corn- 
stalks, and  other  available  materials.  The  owners  fre- 
quently repair  their  home  in  the  fall,  that  the  structure 
may  more  readily  withstand  the  blasts  of  winter,  though 
the  work  of  repairing  is  done  principally  in  the  spring. 
No  particular  sort  of  tree  is  favored  for  sites,  but  the 
great  desideratum  is  safety,  and  to  this  end  the  height 
of  the  nest  from  the  ground  varies  from  low  situations  to 
eighty  and  ninety  feet.  Sometimes  in  localities  where  the 
birds  are  not  disturbed  the  nests  are  placed  on  the  ground, 
and  in  swampy  regions  they  are  situated  on  low  bushes 
as  well  as  in  the  highest  and  most  inaccessible  positions. 
Nests  in  the  woods  are  generally  situated  nearer  the 
ground  than  nests  in  open  localities,  the  birds  having 
evidently  learned  that  their  homes  in  open  sites  attract 
more  attention  and  are  more  likely  to  be  disturbed  than 
nests  in  swamps  and  woods. 

Sometimes  the  birds  become  so  familiar  that  they  make 
their  habitations  on  the  chimneys  of  rural  residences,  aud 
an  instance  is  recorded  of  a  nest  on  the  cross-piece  of  a 
telegraph  pole.  Some  farmers  are  not  unwilling  to  have 
these  birds  nest  on  their  premises,  and  others  even  resent 
the  molestation  of  the  nests,  though  they  may  destroy  the 
habitations  of  other  rapacious  birds.  They  regard  the 
ospreys  as  their  friends,  for  occasionally  the  birds  pick  up 
small  snakes  and  vermin  about  the  farm,  and  are  perfectly 
harmless  and  friendly  to  other  birds  and  the  poultry. 

It  is  no  easy  undertaking  to  get  into  a  nest  of  the  j 
osprey,  even  after  the  site  has  been  reached,  for  the  spread- 
ing border  of  the  mass  juts  so  far  over  its  base  that  care, 
dexterity,  and  judgment  are  essential  qualifications  of  the 
successful  climber.  The  trees  containing  the  nests  are 
generally  dead,  or  die  more  quickly  after  they  are  chosen 
as  sites,  for  the  salt  water  soaked  into  the  materials  has- 
tens the  death  of  the  trees,  and  also  causes  the  rapid  dis- 
integration of  the  foundation.  The  usual  complement 


American  Osprey.  269 

consists  of  three  eggs,  rarely  of  four  eggs,  and  sometimes 
there  are  only  two  eggs  in  the  set.  The  ground- color 
of  the  eggs  varies  from  brownish-yellow  to  creamy-white, 
and  they  are  irregularly  spotted  and  blotched  with  red- 
dish-brown and  umber.  Most  of  the  eggs  have  the  mark- 
ings so  thickly  crowded  at  the  larger  end  that  the  ground- 
color is  entirely  obscured,  and  there  is  great  diversity 
of  marking  in  the  eggs  of  any  set  as  well  as  in  a  large 
series  of  specimens.  The  eggs  average  2.40  inches  in 
length  by  1.75  in  width. 

The  kind  disposition  and  good  nature  of  the  ospreys 
are  manifested  by  the  fact  that  they  allow  the  grackles 
and  other  smaller  birds  to  nest  in  the  cavities  of  their 
homes.  Davie  tells  of  a  nest  from  which  a  collector  took 
a  set  of  these  eggs,  and  in  a  cavity  between  the  sticks  he 
found  a  nest  of  the  purple  grackle  containing  five  eggs, 
while  in  a  lower  portion  was  a  hollow  branch  containing 
a  set  of  seven  eggs  of  the  tree  swallow.  Frequently,  when 
several  pairs  of  ospreys  live  as  neighbors,  they  first  unite 
their  forces  and  drive  the  bald  eagle  from  the  vicinity, 
if  one  is  lingering  in  the  locality  to  take  advantage  of  the 
industry  and  perseverance  of  the  fish  hawks.  If  they  are 
successful  in  driving  away  their  common  enemy,  they  are 
free  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  own  labors.  Where  the 
ospreys  are  not  so  abundant,  they  live  in  solitary  pairs, 
commonly  selecting  the  most  inaccessible  site  in  the 
locality, one  which  will  give  them  a  commanding  viewof  the 
subjacent  region.  There  they  will  dwell  for  many  seasons, 
if  they  are  not  persecuted.  The  young  are  very  slow  to 
leave  the  nest,  and  they  depend  on  the  parent  birds  for 
support  long  after  they  have  learned  to  fly.  It  is  not 
uncommon  to  see  the  parents  feeding  the  young  birds- 
while  the  latter  are  sailing  about  on  wings  which  they 
have  learned  to  use  with  almost  the  freedom  of  their 
elders. 

Among  the  rapacious  birds  it  is  usual  for  the  female  to 
exceed  the  male  in  size,  but  the  male  of  the  osprey  is 
somewhat  larger  than  the  female.  He  is  a  most  attentive 
provider  for  his  mate  while  she  is  brooding  her  eggs,  and 
his  regular  excursions  to  the  water  and  bis  return  with 
the  prey  are  ordinary  occurrences  to  residents  of  the 


270  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

adjoining  regions.  It  is  not  commonly  known  that  the 
osprey  ever  feeds  on  anything  else  but  fish,  but  Mr.  F.  W. 
Andros,  a  careful  observer  and  an  accurate  writer,  asserts 
that  it  hunts  over  the  pastures  for  field  mice,  frogs,  toads, 
and  snakes.* 

BALD  EAGLE. 

No  bird  has  been  the  subject  of  more  improbable  stories 
or  has  been  more  frequently  misrepresented  in  accounts 
of  its  habits  than  the  ill-chosen  emblem  of  our  national 
genius,  the  white-headed  eagle.  In  many  of  its  traits  it 
is  scarcely  more  noble  than  the  vultures;  in  others  it  dis- 
covers a  true  nobility  of  nature  and  exhibits  great  daring 
and  unfaltering  courage.  We  often  read  of  the  eagle  as 
holding  some  inaccessible  shelf  on  a  perpendicular  cliff, 
from  which  it  sallies  forth  to  seize  any  child  neglected  by 
its  mother  or  companions.  The  real  fact  is,  however,  that 
while  the  bald  eagle  is  generally  found  in  mountainous 
regions,  and  in  rare  instances  attacks  small  children  and 
even  men,  when  impelled  by  fierce  hunger,  in  its  general 
habits  it  is  not  much  unlike  the  larger  buzzard-hawks, 
whose  sluggish  natures  and  cowardly  dispositions  are  well 
known.  It  nests  more  frequently  in  trees  than  in  other 
situations,  and  its  lazy  temperament  leads  it  at  times  to 
feed  on  dead  fish  and  game  rather  than  to  exert  itself  in 
the  capture  of  fresh  game.  Frequently,  however,  it  is 
the  embodiment  of  lordly  pride  and  regal  power.  Then 
it  is  the  real  "bird  of  Jove,"  falling  upon  the  flocks  of 
water-fowls  which  have  failed  to  keep  the  upper  air,  and 
sweeping  away  with  its  victim  with  irresistible  impet- 
uosity. In  fact,  its  habits  show  the  extremes  of  energy 
and  indolence,  of  noble  instinct  and  depraved  tastes.  It 
is  not  improbable  that  the  birds  of  mountainous  regions 
discover  traits  more  in  keeping  with  the  royal  attributes 
ascribed  to  the  eagle,  the  greater  struggle  for  existence  in 
the  wilder  localities  conducing  to  render  the  individuals 
in  mountain  strongholds  fiercer  and  bolder  than  the  birds 
of  the  prairies. 

*0rnithologist  and  Oologist,  September,  1886. 


Bald  Eagle.  271 

It  is  not  generally  known,  except  to  naturalists,  that 
there  are  only  two  species  of  eagle  which  belong  to  the 
avi-fauna  of  North  America,  with  the  exception  of  the 
gray  sea  eagle  of  Europe,  occasionally  resident  on  the 
southern  coast  of  Greenland.  Our  two  species  are  the 
bald  or  white-headed  eagle  and  the  golden  eagle.  In  their 
mature  plumage  the  two  species  need  not  be  confounded, 
but  in  the  immature  plumage  of  the  first  two  or  three 
years  there  is  a  degree  of  resemblance  between  them. 
The  golden  eagle,  however,  has  the  tarsi  feathered  all 
round  down  to  the  toes,  while  the  bald  eagle  has  the  tarsi 
feathered  only  in  front  and  on  the  sides,  and  not  more 
than  half  way  down  to  the  toes;  and  this  difference  serves 
as  a  sure  means  of  identification.  The  common  name 
of  bald  eagle  admits  of  misconstruction,  as  the  reader 
might  imagine  the  unfeathered  condition  of  the  head 
found  in  the  vultures.  The  term  white-headed  eagle  is 
more  consonant  with  the  truth,  for  in  mature  plumage 
the  head  and  neck  are  pure  white,  as  is  the  tail.  Individ- 
uals in  their  second  year  have  a  grayish  phase,  and  are 
popularly  styled  gray  eagles,  but  it  should  be  remembered 
that  they  are  bald  eagles  in  immature  dress.  The  young 
of  the  first  year  are  quite  dark,  and  are  popularly  known 
as  black  eagles  in  some  localities,  though  the  golden  eagle 
also  is  called  black  eagle  by  undiscriminating  persons, 
and  hence  this  title  is  confusing. 

To  the  wide  distribution  of  the  white-headed  eagle  are 
doubtless  due  the  seemingly  contradictory  accounts  of  its 
habits,  as  environment  has  a  noticeable  effect  in  modifying 
the  habits  of  animals,  especially  when  successive  genera- 
tionsof  the  same  family  breed  in  the  same  locality.  The  bald 
eagle  is  equally  at  home  on  the  banks  of  the  Arctic  rivers 
and  the  rivers  of  the  Gulf,  and  it  thrives  as  well  on  the 
barren  cliffs  of  Labrador  as  the  sunny  shores  of  Florida 
and  Texas.  It  is  seen  oftenest  along  the  seashore,  and 
along  the  great  lakes,  as  well  as  near  the  larger  rivers 
and  water-courses.  Near  the  waters  of  the  bottom  lakes 
of  this  section  the  bald  eagle  can  frequently  be  seen  sitting 
or  flying,  doubtless  allured  thither  in  part  by  the  quanti- 
ties of  dead  fish  annually  left  by  the  destructive  freshets. 
At  that  season  the  swamp-lakes  harbor  flocks  of  migrat- 


272  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

ing  water-fowl,  and  as  the  lakes  are  usually  surrounded 
by  a  dense  growth  of  timber,  the  eagle  can  capture  its- 
prey  with  comparative  ease.  When  food  is  thus  abundant 
and  can  be  procured  with  little  endeavor,  the  eagle  gives 
way  to  a  spirit  of  lazy  contentment,  seldom  making  those 
lofty  aerial  flights  which  have  given  it  a  reputation 
synonymous  with  unresting  aspiration.  Here  it  flies  low 
and  goes  only  a  short  distance  at  one  time,  except  when 
frequently  shot  at  by  misguided  hunters.  Then  it  mounts 
in  the  circling,  soaring  flight  common  to  the  larger  hawks, 
and  ascending  until  it  strains  our  powerof  sight  to  follow  its 
course,  floats  for  hours  in  the  distant  blue  depths,  forgetful 
of  the  petty  annoyances  of  earth,  and  giving  us  a  more 
exalted  idea  of  its  resources  and  strength.  In  such  moods 
it  is  a  worthy  symbol  of  our  nation,  and  proudly  confirms 
its  right  to  the  title  of  "Bird  of  Washington,"  given  to  it 
by  Audubon  on  first  meeting  an  individual  in  the  gray 
plumage  and  supposing  it  to  be  a  new  species. 

Though  the  bald  eagle  is  so  widely  distributed  over 
North  America,  and  resident  throughout  the  year  wherever 
found,  there  are  many  localities  where  it  seldom  or  never 
nests;  and  there  its  appearance  is  noted  only  when  it 
makes  its  longer  excursions  from  the  neighborhood  of  its 
eyrie.  It  does  not  usually  nest  far  away  from  the  sea, 
lakes,  or  rivers,  as  its  dependence  upon  fish  for  its  chief 
food  supply  leads  it  to  establish  its  home  within  easy 
reach  of  well-stocked  waters.  It  is  a  persistent  parasite 
of  the  osprey.  The  fact  that  the  eagle  frequently  despoils 
the  fish  hawk  of  its  hard-earned  prey  is  well  known  to 
all  who  have  read  careful  accounts  of  the  two  species,  or 
who  have  extensively  observed  the  habits  of  either.  The 
eagle  does  not  always  seem  to  be  impelled  solely  by  hunger 
when  it  launches  forth  in  pursuit  of  the  osprey,  laden 
with  its  recently  captured  prey.  Sometimes  the  motive 
is  apparently  a  spirit  of  wanton  cruelty  and  malicious 
pleasure;  for  frequently,  when  it  has  caused  the  defeated 
and  despairing  fish  hawk  to  drop  its  burden,  the  eagle 
will  make  no  effort  to  secure  the  morsel  for  its  own  use, 
merely  turning  away  from  the  chase  with  the  air  of  a 
gunner  who  has  killed  a  bird  which  he  disdains  to  place 
in  his  gamebag.  Often,  however,  the  eagle  will  swoop 


Bald  Eagle.  273 

downward  in  pursuit  of  the  fish  falling  through  the  air, 
and  the  meteor-like  descent  of  the  eagle  on  such  occasions 
is  a  sight  never  to  be  forgotten  by  the  beholder. 

The  most  of  the  recorded  appearances  of  the  bald  eagles 
in  this  section  are  for  the  fall,  winter,  and  spring.  The 
dry  prairie  regions  do  not  seem  to  offer  them  the  proper 
inducements  for  continuous  residence.  It  is  probable  that 
the  individuals  of  the  species  killed  or  seen  in  sections 
are  stragglers,  pursuing  the  migrating  water-fowl  from 
their  more  permanent  homes.  Close  observation  may 
show  that  the  bald  eagles  in  some  neighborhoods  migrate 
as  the  crows  do.  While  there  are  birds  seen  in  certain 
localities  at  all  seasons,  it  may  be  the  case  that  the  sum- 
mer residents  remove  farther  south  or  to  other  localities 
after  the  breeding  season,  and  that  other  individuals  come 
in  to  occupy  the  ground  thus  vacated.  However,  in  most 
cases  the  same  birds  are  known  to  remain  throughout  the 
year  near  their  breeding  places. 

This  eagle  seems  to  be  more  abundant  in  Florida  and 
the  southeastern  coast  of  the  United  States  than  else- 
where. Mr.  Maynard  says  that  to  study  the  bald  eagle 
in  its  abundance,  one  must  visit  Florida,  where  there  are 
more  nests  in  a  given  area  than  in  any  other  section,  and 
that  he  has  found  several  times  three  or  four  eyries,  all 
occupied,  within  the  radius  of  a  mile.  Ornithologist  and 
Oologist  for  May,  1889,  contains  information  about  a  series 
of  twenty-six  sets,  amounting  to  forty-seven  eggs  of  the 
bald  eagle,  collected  in  the  Indian  Eiver  region  of  Florida 
in  two  seasons.  The  earliest  date  given  is  November  25th; 
another  set  was  taken  November  30th ;  eighteen  sets  were 
taken  in  December;  four  in  January,  and  the  remainder  in 
February.  The  dates  are  given  to  show  the  early  nesting 
of  the  bald  eagle  in  its  southern  resorts.  All  of  the  above 
nests  were  situated  in  pine  trees,  at  various  heights  not 
exceeding  eighty-six  feet.  Thirteen  of  the  nests  were 
less  than  sixty  feet  from  the  ground.  Thus  the  real  facts 
do  not  bear  out  the  assertions  so  frequently  seen  that  the 
eagle  chooses  a  wild  and  inaccessible  site  for  its  nest. 
However,  there  are  notable  instances  of  such  a  choice. 

In  the  northern  portions  of  its  habitat  the  bald  eagle 
nests  in  March  and  April.  When  a  new  nest  is  to  be 
18 


274  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

made,  the  female  is  the  chief  architect  and  the  principal 
laborer,  though  the  male  assists  by  fetching  a  part  of  the 
sticks,  the  female  disposing  them  in  the  pile  to  please  her 
fancy.  The  chief  material  of  the  nest  is  coarse  sticks,  the 
inner  parts  consisting  of  twigs  and  grasses.  There  is  no 
small  amount  of  trash  worked  into  the  mass,  which  is 
from  four  to  six  feet  across  and  several  feet  high.  Often 
the  same  nest  is  used  year  after  year,  and  as  a  small 
amount  of  new  material  is  added  each  season,  the  struc- 
ture sometimes  reaches  to  a  height  of  six  feet  or  more,  and 
often  amounts  to  a  respectable  cartload.  The  eggs  are 
two,  rarely  three,  and  they  are  white  or  dingy-white, 
measuring  in  length  from  2.98  to  2.45,  and  in  width  from 
2.25  to  1.95,  in  inches. 

The  eagles  are  valiant  in  defending  their  homes  against 
the  depredations  of  other  birds,  quadrupeds,  and  reptiles. 
However,  they  show  none  of  the  courage  imputed  to  them 
when  the  human  despoiler  plunders  their  eyries,  and  at 
such  times  they  do  not  appear  to  have  much  concern  in 
the  fate  of  their  homes.  At  times  they  fly  about  the  spot, 
uttering  a  harsh,  screaming  cry.  At  other  times  they  sit 
in  a  convenient  tree  within  sight,  and  apparently  unmoved, 
they  watch  the  actions  of  the  visitor,  being  careful  to 
keep  out  of  range  of  any  weapons  the  intruder  may  carry. 
Mr.  Maynard  says:  "When  the  nest  is  approached,  the 
parent  eagles  do  not  exhibit  any  great  degree  of  solicitude, 
merely  flying  about  at  long  rifle  range,  and  uttering  a 
harsh,  cackling  note.  They  have  a  singular  habit  of  drop- 
ping at  such  times  when  shot  at  and  uninjured,  just  as 
if  they  had  been  hit,  and  I  have  seen  a  female  turn  over 
several  times,  almost  exactly  like  a  tumbler  pigeon.  The 
males  are  particularly  shy;  in  fact,  they  will  often  leave 
the  vicinity  when  they  perceive  an  intruder." 

The  food  habits  of  the  bald  eagle  have  been  referred  to. 
While  it  looks  to  the  osprey  for  a  part  of  its  supply  of  fish, 
the  eagle  is  itself  an  expert  in  catching  its  favorite  food. 
It  does  not  make  grand  plunges  from  great  heights  like 
the  osprey,  but  it  submerges  itself  with  ease  and  rarely 
fails  to  seize  the  desired  prey.  The  coots  and  gallinules, 
or  mudhens,  of  the  swamps  become  toothsome  delicacies 
for  it  when  it  can  not  procure  fish,  and  all  kinds  of  water- 


Sparrow  Hawk.  275 

fowl  appear  in  its  bill-of-fare  in  their  season.  Swans, 
geese,  and  ducks  are  taken  on  the  wing  with  astonishing 
ease  by  the  eagle,  which  mounts  above  them  and  strikes 
them  with  its  powerful  talons.  The  victims  fall  to  earth, 
whence  they  are  picked  up  and  eaten  when  hunger  impels 
the  successful  forayer.  The  agriculturist  should  recognize 
its  services  in  the  destruction  of  harmful  rodents,  though 
he  is  often  called  to  mourn  the  loss  of  unprotected  lambs, 
pigs,  and  poultry.  Satisfactory  investigation  has  proved 
that  the  harmful  and  beneficial  habits  of  the  bald  eagle1 
balance  each  other.  It  is  both  friend  and  foe  to  human 
interests,  judged  by  the  standard  of  utility.  From  the 
bird-lover's  point  of  view,  however,  its  value  is  not  com- 
parable to  mere  pigs  and  poultry.  Has  not  some  one 
suggested  that  one  genius  is  worth  a  generation  of  mediocre 
minds? 

SPAEEOW   HAWK. 

There  are  incidents  in  the  lives  of  all  persons  which 
are  of  such  interest  that  they  are  not  easily  forgotten. 
Such  an  incident  was  the  capture  of  the  first  and  only 
sparrow  hawk  I  ever  killed.  I  had  lately  obtained  pos- 
session of  a  small  gun,  and  with  it  I  became  a  regular 
rambler  over  the  accessible  territory  near  my  home,  acquir- 
ing some  of  my  best  lessons  in  ornithology.  One  bright 
morning,  while  I  was  walking  along  a  railroad  through 
the  woods,  a  handsome,  strange  bird,  which  I  mentally 
classed  as  a  species  of  hawk,  alighted  on  the  telegraph 
wire  near  me.  It  had  scarcely  snapped  its  wings  into 
position,  however,  before  it  noticed  my  proximity  and 
arose  from  its  perch,  only  to  fall  at  the  report  of  my  gun. 
Comparing  it  with  the  descriptions  in  the  books,  I  easily 
identified  it  as  the  sparrow  hawk.  I  have  never  killed 
another,  for  the  handsome  markings,  trim  form,  and  char- 
acteristic manners  of  this  little  falcon  enable  its  friends 
to  know  it  on  sight  without  sacrifice  of  its  life.  It  has 
the  distinction  of  being  the  smallest  and  handsomest  of 
the  American  falcons.  Unlike  the  other  falcon  hawks,  its 
reputation  is  comparatively  clear,  and  lack  of  persecution 
for  fancied  depredations  allows  it  to  remain  quite  common 


276  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

in  localities  where  the  other  birds  of  beak  and  talon  are 
being  rapidly  reduced  in  numbers. 

In  this  section  of  central  Illinois  the  sparrow  hawks  are 
migrants,  making  their  appearance  early  in  March.  I 
have  never  seen  them  here  in  midwinter,  but  in  summer 
they  are  rather  common.  Colonel  Goss  records  them  as 
residents  in  Kansas.  They  are  said  to  be  distributed  over 
the  whole  of  temperate  North  America  in  summer,  and 
in  winter  to  range  as  far  south  as  northern  South  Amer- 
ica. They  are  fond  of  the  telegraph  wires  along  the  rail- 
roads for  points  of  observation  for  their  early  resorts,  be- 
fore they  settle  upon  their  regular  habitations,  and  thence 
they  make  frequent  excursions  over  the  bordering  fields 
and  meadows  in  search  of  the  small  forms  of  animal  life 
on  which  they  depend  for  their  ordinary  fare. 

Their  irregular,  darting  flight  is  well  known  to  observ- 
ers, as  well  as  their  habit  of  hovering  above  a  particular 
spot  or  over  their  intended  quarry  for  many  moments  at 
a  time,  beating  the  air  with  their  wings  and  yet  retaining 
the  same  situation  in  space.  After  thus  hovering  above 
their  quarry,  they  will  either  swoop  down  and  seize  it,  or 
else  follow  it  in  its  movements  a  few  yards,  and  then  per- 
haps engage  in  the  same  actions  before  taking  their  prey, 
or  perhaps  they  will  abandon  it  and  continue  their  flight. 
In  hovering  above  their  quarry,  the  sparrow  hawks  partly 
support  themselves  and  check  their  forward  motion  by 
the  expanded  tail,  and  the  head  is  protruded  forward  and 
downward,  ready  for  quick  and  accurate  movement. 

"Upon  a  lofty  branch  the  sparrow  hawk  may  be  seen 
resting  or  patiently  'waiting  for  something  to  turn  up,' 
sitting  quietly,  in  an  upright  position,  sometimes  for  an 
hour  or  more.  Should  a  thoughtless  mouse  steal  incau- 
tiously from  her  nest  for  a  ramble,  the  quick  eye  of  its 
watchful  enemy  detects  it.  He  first  dives  from  his  perch 
and  flies  directly  over  the  object  in  view.  Should  the 
latter  bo  quiet  for  a  while,  the  hawk  poises  itself  in  mid- 
air, its  fanlike  tail  widely  expanded  and  its  head  lowered, 
waiting  for  a  favorable  opportunity  to  descend  upon  its 
intended  victim.  But  the  mouse  is  usually  rather  rest- 
less, running  first  to  one  point,  then,  after  a  short  halt, 
zigzagging  off  to  another.  The  hawk,  however,  follows 


Sparrow  Hawk.  277 

every  movement,  shooting  rapidly  off  uod  hovering  tem- 
porarily exactly  to  correspond  with  the  movements  of  the 
unsuspecting  mouse."* 

Early  in  April  these  birds  establish  themselves  in  their 
nesting  sites,  and  the  honeymoon  is  marked  by  many 
noisy  demonstrations.  The  nickers  alone  rival  them  in 
amusing  movements  and  noticeable  love-notes.  In  their 
tender  moods  they  utter  a  sharp,  whining  cry,  or  rather 
a  series  of  cries,  suggestive  of  trouble  and  pain,  apparently 
the  expression  of  a  bird  in  distress,  readily  recognized 
after  it  is  once  connected  with  the  author.  Seated  by  the 
side  of  his  chosen  companion  on  a  bare  limb  of  a  favorite 
tree,  the  male  earnestly  solicits  her  favor,  gently  sidling 
closer  to  her  with  quivering,  partially  expanded  wings. 
If  she  coyly  recedes  from  his  ardent  advances  and  flies  to 
another  tree,  he  soon  follows  on  half-beating  wings,  cry- 
ing out  his  piteous  assurances  of  affection.  Thus  they 
call  attention  to  their  presence  and  their  intended  abode 
in  any  particular  part  of  the  woods  or  other  resort  which 
they  choose. 

In  a  cavity  of  the  cupola  of  the  school  building  where 
my  duties  called  me  for  several  years  a  pair  of  hawks 
made  their  summer  home,  and  there  I  learned  to  look  for 
them  at  suitable  times.  The  nest  was  on  a  joist  between 
the  walls,  the  entrance  being  a  hole  formed  by  flickers 
some  years  before  the  falcons  laid  claim  to  the  site. 
The  ringing  of  the  large  bell  in  the  cupola  was  a  signal 
for  the  appearance  of  the  occupant  of  the  nest,  for  it 
seemed  to  me  that  the  birds  never  became  sufficiently  ac- 
customed to  the  sound  to  remain  on  the  nest  while  the 
bell  was  ringing.  They  were  exceedingly  cautious  about 
entering  the  cavity  while  they  were  being  watched  to 
their  knowledge.  Frequently  when  I  seated  myself  under 
an  evergreen  in  the  grounds  to  watch  their  movements, 
one  or  both  of  the  birds  would  fly  above  my  head  at  in- 
tervals and  perch  momentarily  in  the  high  maples  sur- 
rounding the  yard,  watching  me  suspiciously,  but  not 
attempting  to  enter  the  nest.  During  the  times  at  my 
disposal  for  observing  them  I  was  never  able  to  see  either 


*Robert  Ridgway. 


278  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

of  the  birds  enter  their  home,  though  from  the  opposite 
side  of  the  building  I  often  saw  them,  disappear  around 
the  cupola,  and  I  knew  they  had  gone  within.  The  sharp 
calls  of  the  male,  returning  from  an  excursion  with  re- 
freshment for  his  spouse  brooding  in  the  dark  cavity,  fre- 
quently attracted  my  attention  in  the  nesting  time,  and 
he  seemed  to  be  a  model  husband  in  his  faithful  care  for 
her  wants  and  his  studied  devotion  to  her  pleasure. 

The  regular  quarters  of  these  hawks  are  the  dead  trees 
and  stubs  along  the  border  of  woods  adjoining  open  mead- 
ows and  stumpy  pastures.  Deserted  or  unoccupied  build- 
ings in  similar  situations  furnish  them  nooks  and  cavities 
for  nesting.  They  are  by  no  means  averse  to  the  society 
of  man.  Bradford  Torrey  compares  the  familiarity  of 
the  St.  Augustine  sparrow  hawks  to  that  of  village-bred 
robins  in  Massachusetts.  They  are  said  to  make  them- 
selves at  home  occasionally  in  the  holes  or  lofts  for  the  pi- 
geons, and  to  live  quietly  with  their  neighbors  under  such 
circumstances.  They  seem  to  be  good-natured,  doubtless 
an  effect  of  good  living.  When  seated  quietly  on  a  perch 
they  resemble  the  mourning  doves  to  the  superficial  ob- 
server, though  they  sit  more  erect  and  droop  the  tail  more 
than  the  dove.  It  is  amus'mg  to  watch  the  behavior  of  a 
dove  that  has  alighted  near  a  sparrow  hawk  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  having  a  quiet  tete-a-tete  with  a  companion. 
The  first  act  of  the  dove  after  tliscovering  her  mistake  is 
to  face  away  from  her  neighbor;  then  she  gently  moves 
further  away  little  by  little  until  she  seems  to  be  out  of 
the  reach  of  immediate  harm,  when  she  betakes  herself 
to  hasty  flight.  At  times  in  their  flight,  also,  the  spar- 
row hawks  might  be  confounded  with  the  doves,  both  fre- 
quently sailing  downward  in  an  oblique  arc  in  the  same 
manner,  though  the  hovering  of  the  hawks  and.  the 
partly  closed  wings  serve  clearly  to  distinguish  them. 

The  flickers  and  red-headed  woodpeckers  are  the  build- 
ers of  the  abodes  of  the  sparrow  hawks.  Any  cavities  con- 
structed by  them  are  acceptable  homes  for  the  easy-going 
little  falcons.  The  holes  in  the  gables  of  country  churches, 
chiseled  out  by  woodpeckers  at  times  when  the  tapping 
aided  in  keeping  awake  the  sleepy  rural  congregation  as- 
sembled on  the  Sabbath  mornings  of  early  spring,  are 


Sparrow  Hawk.  279 

often  appropriated  by  these  falcons.  Some  of  them  even 
go  so  far  as  to  use  the  holes  in  banks  and  cliffs  excavated 
by  the  kingfishers,  though  such  nesting  is  unusual. 

The  sparrow  hawks  have  very  limited  instincts  for 
building.  They  seldom  make  a  nest  in  the  ready-made 
cavity  they  select,  but  deposit  their  eggs  on  the  bare  wood 
or  debris  at  the  bottom  of  the  excavation.  However,  in 
the  recess  occupied  by  the  pair  inhabiting  the  cupola  of 
the  school  building,  the  eggs  were  laid  on  a  flat  nest  of 
dried  grass;  but  I  am  unable  to  assert  whether  the  hawks 
or  previous  occupants  carried  in  the  material,  though  it 
looked  like  the  work  of  a  previous  year.  It  was  certainly 
not  the  work  of  the  flickers  that  excavated  the  entrance, 
for  they  are  not  bred  to  that  sort  of  thing.  I  am  of  the 
opinion  that  a  pair  of  these  hawks,  who  occupied  the  re- 
cess in  a  former  season,  saw  the  need  of  a  slight  bed  at 
least,  as  the  eggs  would  roll  about  on  the  joist  if  no  nest 
had  been  prepared. 

The  usual  nest  complement  is  five  eggs,  often  only  four, 
and  rarely  six.  Their  ground  color  is  a  shade  of  white, 
either  buffy  or  creamy  or  reddish,  variously  marked  and 
blotched  with  shades  of  brown.  They  are  1.50  to  1.20  in 
length,  and  1.17  to  1.05  in  width,  in  inches,  these  dimen- 
sions giving  them  a  sub-spherical  form.  The  first  sets  of 
eggs  are  generally  deposited  in  this  locality  by  the  25th 
of  April.  My  journal  records  a  set  of  five  eggs  found  in 
the  cavity  of  the  cupola  on  April  24,  1894,  somewhat  in- 
cubated; a  set  of  five  fresh  eggs  found  May  7,  1894,  in  a 
natural  cavity,  twenty-five  feet  from  the  ground,  in  a 
branch  of  a  live  elm;  on  May  17,  1894,  a  set  of  six  fresh 
eggs  in  a  flicker's  hole,  eighteen  feet  from  the  ground,  in 
an  isolated  dead  stub,  in  a  cleared  area  bordering  woods 
along  a  creek ;  and  May  9, 1895,  a  set  of  five  fresh  eggs  in 
a  deserted  cavity  made  by  flickers,  sixty  feet  from  the 
ground,  in  a  branch  of  a  live  elm. 

Though  the  sparrow  hawks  are  easily  pleased  in  the 
choice  of  their  nesting  sites,  they  are  in  no  hurry  to  begin 
the  cares  of  a  family,  even  after  their  future  home  is  se- 
lected. They  commonly  dally  about  the  place  for  a  week 
or  more,  after  their  choice  is  made,  before  any  eggs  are 
deposited.  They  spend  a  good  share  of  their  time  in  the 


280  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

tree  containing  the  site,  from  the  time  their  choice  is 
made,  and  the  frequent  visits  of  the  male  to  the  tree  while 
the  female  is  brooding  serve  as  a  certain  index  to  the  lo- 
cation of  the  home.  They  use  the  cavity  a  great  deal  in 
their  honeymoon,  and  their  actions  seem  to  indicate  that 
they  are  then  nesting.  They  are  far  more  noisy  before 
the  eggs  are  deposited  than  during  the  period  of  incuba- 
tion. They  are  noisiest  about  the  time  they  determine 
upon  the  site.  The  noticeable  courtship  of  a  pair,  and  tin- 
plaintive  cries  frequently  heard  in  the  vicinity  of  a  suit- 
able cavity,  are  favorable  indications  that  the  site  will  be 
used  somewhat  later. 

It  is  generally  understood  that  this  little  falcon  is  not 
injurious  to  the  interests  of  agriculture  in  its  food  habits, 
or  at  least  that  it  more  than  compensates  the  farmer  for 
the  occasional  harm  it  does.  In  gleaning  most  of  its 
living  from  the  fields,  it  takes  small  snakes,  mice,  lizards, 
moles,  grasshoppers,  and  crickets.  Occasionally  it  seizes 
small  birds,  though  it  seldom  makes  the  effort  to  take 
them  when  the  food  mentioned  is  available.  In  his  oft- 
quoted  "Birds  of  Kansas,"  Colonel  Goss  writes  of  the 
sparrow  hawk  concerning  this  point  as  follows:  "The  bird 
that  suffers  most,  outside  of  the  horned  larks  and  long- 
spurs,  is  the  tree  sparrow,  as  it  prefers  the  hedges  and 
small  thickets  upon  the  prairies,  instead  of  the  wooded 
lands,  for  its  sheltered  home,  ita  food  in  all  such  cases 
being  upon  the  open  lands;  and  whenever  there  is  any 
snow  upon  the  ground  it  drifts  against  the  hedges,  and 
forces  the  little  birds  to  seek  the  bare  spots,  quite  a  dis- 
tance away,  for  the  s'eeds  on  or  fallen  from  the  weeds. 
Here  it  is  that  the  hawks  successfully  get  in  their  work, 
by  darting  from  a  perch  and  striking  the  sparrow,  either 
upon  the  ground  or  before  it  can  reach  its  hiding-place." 
In  an  experiment  made  by  M.  deLantrie  to  determine  the 
actual  food  of  this  species,  and  recorded  in  "Birds  of 
Minnesota,"  page  203,  the  experimenter  says:  "I  took 
five  little  sparrow  hawks  and  put  them  in  a  cage.  The 
parents  immediately  brought  them  food,  and  I  was  not 
surprised  to  see  that  it  consisted  of  twelve  mice,  four  large 
lizards,  and  six  mole  crickets.  A  meal  of  like  size  was 
brought  every  day  for  a  month.  At  one  time  there  were 


YOUNG   TURKEY    VULTURE. 
From  life.     After  Shufeldt. 


Turkey  Vulture.  281 

fifteen  field  mice,  two  little  birds,  and  a  young  rabbit. 
Last  year  I  made  the  same  experiment,  with  similar  re- 
sults, one  meal  consisting  of  twelve  small  birds,  one  lark, 
three  moles,  and  one  hedgehog.  In  one  month  the  five 
baby  hawks  rid  the  world,  by  actual  count,  of  420  rats 
and  mice,  200  mole  crickets,  and  158  lizards."  ("Birds  of 
Ontario,"  by  Thomas  Mcllwraith.) 


TUEKEY    VULTUEE. 

In  the  vulturine  group  of  rapacious  birds',  the  turkey 
vulture,  or  turkey  buzzard,  is  the  most  common  in  this 
latitude,  and  indeed  it  is  the  only  species  of  the  family  seen 
in  central  and  northern  Illinois.  It  is  seen  oftenest  while 
careening  in  its  strong  flight,  examining  the  subjacent 
fields  and  woods  for  its  accustomed  prey,  and  hence  its 
characteristics  can  not  be  observed  in  detail  by  the  watcher 
below.  Frequently,  however,  its  voracity  in  gorging  it- 
self with  the  flesh  of  some  decaying  carcass  overcomes  its 
ordinary  caution  in  our  region,  and  it  admits  a  near  ap- 
proach, especially  when  it  is  in  a  field  or  meadow  adjoin- 
ing a  road  along  which  the  observer  is  passing.  At  such 
times  its  plumage  of  the  upper  parts,  which  at  a  distance 
exhibits  a  deep  black  hue,  appears  to  be  burnished  with  a 
strong  violet  luster,  and  on  the  lower  back  there  are  seen 
deep  greenish  reflections.  The  head  of  the  creature,  be- 
yond examination  while  the  bird  is  wheeling  overhead  in 
changing  circles,  possesses  characteristics  somewhat  re- 
pulsive, and  yet  interesting  in  their  illustrations  of  the 
wonderful  fact  of  adaptation  to  special  habits  of  life.  Like 
other  birds  that  feed  on  putrid  flesh  and  often  bury  the 
head  in  the  cavities  of  carcasses,  it  has  the  head  and  neck 
unfeathered,  and  the  livid  crimson  of  the  naked  skin  pre- 
sents a  strange  contrast  to  the  pure  white  bill  and  the 
dark  plumage  of  the  body. 

The  turkey  vulture  has  an  extensive  range,  it  being 
found  in  nearly  all  temperate  and  tropical  North  America. 
Its  northward  limits  extend  to  southern  New  England 
and  Ontario,  and  the  States  bordering  the  Great  Lakes. 
The  southern  borders  of  its  habitat  are  in  Chili  and  ad- 


282  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

jacent  regions.  It  is  recorded  as  resident  south  of  the 
fortieth  parallel.  In  the  northern  portions  of  our  State 
the  turkey  vulture  is  much  less  common  than  in  the 
southern  parts,  and  is  there  regarded  as  a  rare  visitant. 
In  this  latitude  of  39°  20',  individuals  can  be  observed 
frequently  late  in  November,  if  there  has  been  no  severe 
weather ;  but  after  the  first  blast  of  real  winter  they  are 
seen  no  more  until  the  genial  weather  indicates  the  ad- 

<vent  of  spring. 

1  It  is  in  its  flight  that  the  turkey  vulture  is  seen  to  the 
best  advantage.  It  can  soar  for  hours  without  observable 
effort,  except  occasionally  when  it  has  swooped  very  low 
in  its  quest  for  food,  and  desires  to  rise  quickly.  Then  it 
gives  several  steady  flaps  with  its  strong,  sweeping 
pinions,  and,  gently  inclining  its  body  upward,  rises  on 
wide-spread  wings,  held  somewhat  above  the  horizontal 
position,  often  careening  in  the  strong  breeze  like  a  ship 
in  a  gale,  but  quickly  righting  itself  in  the  recovery  of  its 
balance.  When  it  desires  to  leave  a  neighborhood,  it 
ascends  gradually  in  broad  circles,  which  form  a  huge, 
inverted,  conical  spiral,  until  it  reaches  a  height  almost  to 
the  limit  of  human  vision,  and  then  it  turns  its  course  to 
please  its  fancy,  steadily  floating  from  old  to  new  regions 
without  apparent  effort. 

Their  wonderful  power  of  flight  admits  the  vultures  to 
forage  far  and  wide  from  their  nesting-places  for  suste- 
nance for  themselves  and  supplies  for  their  families;  and 
for  many  minutes,  and  even  hours,  they  may  be  seen 
wheeling  and  circling  over  the  particular  patches  of  woods 
that  shelter  their  homes.  They  are  fond  of  company; 
and  at  times  when  only  one  individual  is  within  the  range 
of  our  vision,  others  will  appear  in  a  few  minutes;  and 

jthe  bird-gazer  will  frequently  wonder  how  so  many  of 

,  them  can  circle  into  near  view  in  so  short  a  time,  as  they 
seem  to  arrive  almost  simultaneously — "  all  at  once,  and 
nothing  first."  Numbers  of  the  gyrating  black  creatures, 
all  intently  scanning  the  ground,  and  passing  to  and  fro 
in  their  varying  circles,  present  a  sight  which  impresses 
the  beholder  with  their  perfect  ease  and  power  in  aerial 
regions.  They  disappear  as  mysteriously  as  they  ap- 
peared— one  perhaps  taking  the  lead  in  wheeling  higher 


Turkey  Vulture.  283 

and  farther  away,  aimlessly  sailing  in  its  ever-widening 
spirals,  and  the  others  gradually  increasing  their  distance 
from  the  beholder  and  the  earth,  until  the  party  of  scav- 
engers has  become  lost  to  view. 

The  turkey  vulture  is  quite  inoffensive  on  the  ground, 
and  it  is  even  cowardly  when  cornered.  When  it  is 
frightened,  it  has  a  habit  of  hissing  like  a  goose  defending 
itself  or  its  nest  and  family,  and  it  will  often  stamp  its 
foot  like  a  frightened  hare.  When  it  is  wounded  or 
pressed  closely  by  its  enemy,  it  will  sometimes  fall  over 
apparently  dead,  thus  feigning  death  for  many  minutes  at 
a  time,  and  frequently  repeating  the  action  several  times 
in  a  limited  period.  In  this  peculiar  action  it  either  ex- 
hibits the  crafty  nature  of  the  fox  and  opossum,  or  else  it 
really  succumbs  to  its  emotions  of  fear.  The  latter  theory 
is  the  more  probable ;  for  in  other  instances  it  does  not 
exhibit  the  high  order  of  instinct  which  renders  the  quad- 
rupeds cited  examples  of  cunning  and  craftiness. 

The  habits  of  the  turkey  vultures  are  indeed  repulsive, 
but  the  traits  of  their  character  render  them  of  incalculable 
benefit  as  scavengers.  As  the  birds  swoop  slowly,  yet 
majestically,  among  the  tree-tops,  or  soar  in  spiral  flight 
above  the  prairies  and  woods,  they  are  ever  scanning  the 
area  below  to  detect  the  uncovered  carcasses  on  which  to 
satisfy  their  voracity.  The  discovery  of  food  by  one  bird 
is  communicated  to  'others  in  a  manner  partially  mysterious 
to  us,  but  well  understood  by  its  fellows;  and  in  an  in- 
credibly short  period  the  other  individuals  in  the  locality, 
and  others  not  in  sight  when  the  discovery  was  made, 
may  be  seen  wheeling  into  the  neighborhood,  and  swoop- 
ing down  to  the  repulsive  repast.  Like  others  of  the 
rapacious  birds,  they  have  a  wonderful  capacity  for  food 
when  the  opportunity  to  gratify  their  appetite  presents 
itself,  and  they  seldom  leave  the  banquet,  if  undisturbed, 
until  they  are  gorged  almost  to  stupefaction.  Then  they 
sit  around  the  carcass,  indifferent  to  their  surroundings, 
if  the  place  is  retired  and  they  are  not  likely  to  be  dis- 
turbed, and  thus  they  mopishly  await  the  progress  of  di- 
gestion. If  the  place  is  not  suitable,  they  retire  into  the 
more  sheltered  and  dense  woods,  and  there  doze  until  di- 
gestion relieves  their  gorged  condition.  Thus  are  these 


284  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

birds  adapted  to  their  office  of  removing  quickly  from  the 
face  of  nature  matter  which  rapidly  decays.  It  is  in- 
dicative of  wisdom  in  our  legislators  that  the  vultures  are 
protected  by  law ;  for  this  work  is  peculiar  to  these  birds, 
and  its  importance  is  obvious.  It  is  probable  that  they 
do  not  choose  putrid  food  in  preference  to  fresh  carcasses; 
but  their  claws  and  bills  are  not  moved  by  strong  muscles, 
and  hence  can  not  be  used  in  tearing  apart  the  sound  flesh, 
of  animals  recently  dead. 

It  is  supposed,  by  persons  who  have  given  little  thought 
to  the  subject,  that  the  turkey  buzzards  are  guided  in 
their  quest  for  prey  chiefly  by  the  sense  of  smell,  which  is 
supposed  to  be  extraordinarily  keen.  Intelligent  ob- 
servations and  scientific  investigation,  however,  thor- 
oughly establishes  the  fact  that  the  vultures  are  guided 
almost  solely  in  their  search  by  their  wonderfully  pene- 
trating and  powerful  sight.  Indeed,  experiments  seem  to 
prove  that  the  sense  of  smell  is  rather  imperfect,  being 
perhaps  somewhat  blunted  by  the  regular  contact  with 
their  offensive  food.  The  turkey  vultures,  except  in  their 
acute  sight,  seem  to  possess  faculties  somewhat  dull;  for 
they  have  almost  no  voice,  the  only  sounds  they  are  known 
to  utter  being  the  feeble  hissing  mentioned.  As  they  are 
Buch  able  aeronauts,  the  turkey  vultures  are  veritable 
"old  salts"  upon  land.  They  are  poorly  adapted  to  ter- 
restrial movements,  though  they  walk  well ;  but  they  are 
seen  to  hop  more  than  walk,  and  sometimes  further  their 
hopping  movements  by  flapping  their  wings  at  each  hop. 
Their  walk  suggests  that  their  joints  are  stiff,  and  they 
droop  their  beads  in  a  slovenly  manner.  They  rise  from 
the  earth  with  undignified  efforts;  for,  in  oi'der  to  give 
their  body  proper  momentum,  they  bow  themselves  al- 
most to  the  ground,  and  then  throw  their  bodies  into 
the  air  with  expanding  pinions,  flapping  hurriedly  and 
strongly  several  times.  Once  in  the  air,  however,  their 
carriage  becomes  easy,  graceful,  and  dignified,  their  im- 
perfections disappear,  and  they  rank  easily  with  the 
masters  of  aerial  evolutions. 

The  turkey  vultures  begin  to  nest  in  this  region  about 
the  first  of  May,  but  sometimes  in  advanced  seasons  they 
deposit  the  eggs  in  the  latter  part  of  April.  Where  they 


Turkey  Vulture.  285 

are  abundant,  as  they  are  in  the  southern  part  of  our 
State,  they  nest  in  community,  but  in  this  section  they 
breed  in  scattered  pairs.  In  mountainous  localities  they 
are  said  to  make  their  nests  in  the  hollows  and  recesses 
of  rocky  slopes.  On  the  prairies  and  in  the  bottom  lands 
they  choose  the  natural  cavities  of  the  forest  trees,  and 
often  deposit  their  eggs  in  depressions  at  the  bases  of 
trees  or  stumps.  A  branchless  trunk  of  a  giant  cotton- 
wood,  fully  fifty  feet  high  and  containing  a  cavity  at  the 
top  about  five  feet  deep,  standing  in  the  formerly  dense 
woods  near  my  home,  was  regularly  used  by  turkey  vul- 
tures as  a  place  to  rear  their  young.  Fallen  logs  contain- 
ing hollows  are  favorite  sites  for  their  homes,  as  well  as 
retired  spots  on  the  ground  in  thick  clumps  of  bushes. 

The  turkey  vultures  do  not  take  the  trouble  to  make  a 
nest,  but  content  themselves  with  the  condition  of  the  site 
as  they  find  it.  Frequently  only  one  egg  is  laid,  and  in 
other  instances  two  are  deposited.  They  are  yellowish 
white  or  creamy,  irregularly  spotted,  and  are  marked 
with  shades  of  brown,  and  have  deeper  markings  of  lilac 
and  purplish  drab.  They  average  about  2.75  by  1.85  in 
inches.  Sets  of  two  are  recorded  as  more  common  than 
sets  of  one  egg.  Their  breeding  quarters  are  very  offen- 
sive from  the  rank  odor  peculiar  to  the  birds,  and  after 
the  young  are  hatched  and  require  nourishment  the  place 
becomes  additionally  offensive  from  the  half  digested,  pu- 
trid matter  disgorged  by  the  parent  to  feed  the  young. 
The  newly-hatched  young  are  quite  comical  in  their  soft 
white  down,  and  nothing  except  their  disagreeable  odor 
and  repulsive  surroundings  indicates  that  they  are  to  be- 
come similar  to  their  elders,  and  perform  a  part  so  neces- 
sary in  the  wonderful  economy  of  nature. 

The  turkey  vultures  do  not  confine  themselves  to  car- 
rion in  their  food,  for  where  they  are  abundant  they  are 
said  frequently  to  seize  and  eat  young  pigs  and  lambs. 
Dr.  Elliott  Coues  says  that  one  excellent  service  that  the 
turkey  vultures  render  in  warm  countries  is  the  destruc- 
tion of  alligators'  eggs.  The  items  referred  to,  however, 
are  only  occasional  variations  from  their  regular  diet,  and 
it  is  generally  accepted  that  the  services  rendered  by  the 


286  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

vultures  are  invaluable.  While  we  can  not  admire  the 
habits  of  these  birds,  we  should  consider  their  utility. 
Emerson  tells  us  that  "Beauty  rests  on  necessities,"  and 
viewed  in  the  light  of  their  place  in  nature  and  the  neces- 
sity for  their  work,  the  turkey  vultures  are  not  so  igno- 
ble and  repulsive  as  they  are  generally  represented,  but 
they  are  rather  servants  worthy  of  our  gratitude. 


VIII.— RIVER-BANK   AXD   SWAMP- 
LAKE. 

"  In  Spring  they  lie  one  broad  expanse  of  green. 

O'er  which  the  light  winds  run  with  glimmering  feet; 
Here,  yellower  stripes  track  out  the  creek  unseen, 
There,  darker  growths  o'er  hidden  ditches  meet; 
And  purpler  stains  show  where  the  blossoms  crowd, 
As  if  the  silent  shadow  of  a  cloud 
Hung  there  becalmed,  with  the  next  breath  to  fleet." 

—LOWELL. 

THE  interested  student  of  bird-life  finds  few  localities 
which  do  not  furnish  him  subjects  for  profitable  study  and 
observation.  Meadow,  woods,  and  orchard,  highway  and 
dooryard,  the  tangled  thicket  and  the  rural  hedgerow,  all 
shelter  at  least  a  few  species  worthy  the  most  intimate  ac- 
quaintance of  the  lover  of  nature.  The  bottom  lands  near 
the  great  rivers  and  their  tributaries  are  the  homes  of  birds 
almost  unknown  to  the  residents  of  the  wide  intervening 
prairies.  The  summer  homes  of  the  water  birds  are  rarely 
visited  except  by  sportsmen  and  enthusiastic  naturalists, 
or  by  boys  who  seek  to  supply  the  demand  for  the  fra- 
grant lilies  which  dot  the  surface  of  the  stagnant  water. 
The  certainty  of  encountering  mud  and  water,  and  the 
laborious  efforts  necessary  to  push  a  boat  through  the 
tangled  reeds  and  over  shallows,  or  to  wade  in  soft  mud 
among  the  tall,  rank  growth,  deter  many  who  frequently 
wish  to  visit  the  waterfowl  in  their  breeding  resorts.  The 
earnest  ornithologist,  however,  knows  that  while  there 
ai'e  discomforts  attending  a  visit  to  the  swamps,  there  is 
ample  compensation  in  the  variety  of  bird-life  to  be  found 
and  studied  only  under  such  circumstances.  To  visit  one 
of  these  lakes  or  swamps,  bordered  with  flags  growing 
higher  than  one's  head,  and  gemmed  with  snowy  lilies  ex- 
panding over  their  emerald  chalices— to  push  a  skiff 


288  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

among  the  reeds  and  rushes  in  quest  of  unfamiliar  species — 
is  worth  the  while  of  any  friend  of  nature  who  can  find  a 
period  of  leisure  from  the  routine  of  life. 

There  is  a  characteristic  similarity  in  the  appearance  of 
the  so-called  lakes  which  occupy  the  bottom  lands  border- 
ing all  the  water-courses  of  any  importance  in  the  Mis- 
sissippi Valley.  These  lakes  in  the  drier  seasons  of  the 
year  are  merely  great  swamps,  often  so  dry  that  the 
ground  is  hard  and  baked,  and  the  rank  growth  of  flags 
has  become  browned  and  blasted  by  the  heat  of  the  summer 
sun.  Generally  there  is  a  central  area  of  open  water,  of 
more  or  less  extent,  stagnant  and  green  with  the  moss 
that  grows  in  most  of  these  lakes.  Floating  on  the  mossy- 
green  surface  are  the  large  round  leaves  of  the  lilies, 
dotted  everywhere  with  the  spreading  white  blossoms  in 
late  May  and  June.  Around  this  spot  of  open  water  gen- 
erally is  a  zone  of  green  flags,  growing  in  water  of  vary- 
ing depth,  seldom  exceeding  two  or  three  feet  after  the 
spring  rise  of  the  water  has  subsided.  The  width  of  the 
growth  of  green  flags  varies  with  the  slope  of  the  ground 
or  margin  surrounding  the  swamp.  Such  a  swamp-lake, 
with  its  open  patches  of  water  and  the  fringing  zones  of 
flags,  is  a  typical  breeding-place  for  many  of  the  inland 
water  birds,  and  there  the  student  of  birds,  who  has  been 
limited  in  his  observations  to  the  dry  prairie  regions,  can 
become  acquainted  with  species  he  will  rarely  meet  else- 
where. 

Along  the  bank  of  the  river  we  shall  find  many  of  the 
birds  we  have  met  and  studied  in  other  localities ;  and  in 
making  our  way  into  the  real  swamps  we  are  often  called 
to  notice  birds  common  in  other  resorts.  Some  of  the 
birds  found  near  the  river-bank,  however,  are  at  home 
only  amid  such  surroundings ;  and  if  our  visit  be  made  at 
the  time  of  the  spring  freshets,  we  shall  be  afforded  the 
opportunity  to  study  several  species  then  seen  in  their 
most  favorable  circumstances.  After  the  melting  of  the 
ice  at  the  close  of  winter,  and  after  the  heavy  rains  so 
common  in  this  region  in  the  early  spring,  the  rivers  in 
these  prairie  States  overflow  their  banks  and  for  a  time 
spread  out  over  the  wide  bottoms,  gradually  subsiding 
until  they  barely  fill  their  channels.  Thus  the  lowlands 


Tree  Swallow.  289 

in  the  vicinity  of  the  rivers  and  adjoining  swamp-lakes 
are  annually  flooded  by  the  high  water,  and  the  trees 
thereafter  indicate  the  height  of  the  annual  rise  by  the 
circles  and  the  faded  color  of  their  bases.  In  many  places 
we  find  whole  areas  of  old  forest  where  the  trees  have 
been  killed  by  the  regular  overflow.  Some  of  these  areas 
contain  only  rotten  stubs,  long  ago  denuded  of  their  bark, 
the  decaying  wood  harboring  myriads  of  insects  and 
larvae,  which  attract  woodpeckers  and  other  insectivorous 
birds.  On  all  sides  the  tapping  of  the  feathered  foragers 
may  be  heard,  but  among  the  dead  stubs  we  find  repre- 
sentatives of  two  species  which  are  more  interesting  to  us 
because  we  seldom  meet  them  elsewhere. 


TEEE   SWALLOW. 

Above  the  surface  of  the  rivers  and  swamp-lakes  there 
skims  through  the  livelong  day  the  graceful  and  hand- 
some tree  swallow.  Frequently  in  its  swift  progress  it 
darts  downward  to  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  even  dips 
into  it  with  a  gentle  splash  when  some  floating  tidbit  al- 
lures it,  precisely  as  the  farm  boys  have  seen  the  familiar 
barn  swallow  do  in  its  doublings  to  and  fro  above  the 
ponds.  Indeed,  in  its  movements,  the  tree  swallow  might 
be  mistaken  for  the  barn  swallow;  but  as  it  turns  sharply 
to  right  or  left,  or  passes  low  above  our  heads,  we  notice 
the  marks  which  distinguish  it  from  its  relative.  We  re- 
mark the  pure  white  of  its  under  parts,  and  the  glossy 
violet  green  of  its  upper  parts,  and  we  remark,  further, 
that  it  lacks  the  long  feathers  which  adorn  either  side  of 
the  tail  of  the  barn  swallow  in  its  full  plumage.  The 
colors  of  the  upper  parts  of  this  swallow  have  caused  it  to 
be  known  in  some  localities  as  the  "green-blue  swallow," 
and  the  white  of  its  lower  parts  has  suggested  another 
popular  name  of  "white-bellied  swallow."  The  combina- 
tion of  the  two  colors  seems  to  make  the  title  of  "  black- 
and-white  swallow"  an  appropriate  one,  and  hence  the 
specific  term  bicolor  has  been  aptly  conferred.  The  male 
alone  exhibits  the  glossy  colors  of  the  back.  As  is  cus- 
tomary among  the  smaller  birds,  the  female  is  robed  in  less 
19 


290  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

brilliant  colors.  Her  gown  is  dingy  green  or  brown  above, 
somewhat  resembling  the  colors  of  the  female  grackle, 
and  the  white  of  her  under  parts  is  less  pure  and  showy. 

It  is  always  a  pleasant  experience  to  me — accustomed 
to  see  only  the  birds  of  the  dry  regions,  and  to  ramble 
chiefly  over  the  meadows  and  through  the  upland  woods — 
to  sit  in  a  skiff  anchored  out  in  one  of  the  larger  swamp- 
lakes  and  watch  the  restless  flight  of  the  tree  swallows. 
Persons  who  have  observed  the  chimney  swifts  fluttering 
over  the  meadows,  at  times  skimming  low  above  the  weeds 
to  snap  down  the  insects  hovering  about  the  blossoms  of 
the  vervains,  sometimes  turning  abruptly  upward,  and 
then  circling  higher  with  their  half-fluttering  wings,  can 
form  a  clear  idea  of  the  movements  of  the  tree  swallows 
over  the  lakes  and  rivers.  Sometimes  they  appear  to  be 
flying  all  in  one  direction — hundreds  of  them — at  about 
the  same  height  above  the  surface.  Soon  the  flight  may 
apparently  cease  for  a  short  time,  to  be  renewed  by  their 
appearance  in  similar  movements.  At  other  times  they 
fly  higher  and  with  less  uniformity  of  direction,  doubling 
about  the  lake  or  a  particular  portion  of  it  time  and 
again,  guided  up  or  down,  high  or  low,  right  or  left,  by 
the  presence  of  their  insect  food.  In  my  opinion,  they  do 
not  fly  with  the  velocity  of  the  chimney  swifts,  especially 
when  the  latter  almost  gi-azo  our  heads  as  they  manifest 
their  apparent  delight  in  flying  as  close  to  us  as  possible 
without  touching  us,  and  then  sweep  away  with  the  ease 
and  grace  of  flutter  which  is  characteristic  of  them  alone. 
Nor  do  the  tree  swallows  fly  as  swiftly  as  the  barn  swal- 
lows, in  their  flashing  progress  over  the  fields  or  the 
pond  in  the  farmer's  meadow.  The  flight  of  the  tree  swal- 
lows is  suggestive  of  greater  strength  and  ease  of  motion 
than  that  of  the  other  species  referred  to,  and,  like  them, 
the  swallows  spend  most  of  their  time  in  tireless  and  con- 
tinued movements.  They  skim  above  the  water  hour  after 
hour,  frequently  uttering  a  faint  squeak,  which  doubtless 
expresses  their  gratification  at  the  capture  of  a  choice 
morsel,  or  their  disappointment  at  a  failure. 

The  localities  especially  frequented  by  the  tree  swallows 
are  wooded  areas  which  have  been  so  regularly  over- 
flowed that  the  growth  has  become  dead  and  bare,  and 


Tree  Swallow.  291 

most  of  the  trees  have  been  reduced  to  mere  stubs,  some 
of  which  are  even  tottering  on  their  decayed  and  worm- 
eaten  bases,  and  where  the  water  stagnates  about  the  bot- 
tom of  the  trunks  through  the  most  of  the  season.  Nearly 
every  one  of  such  boles  or  stubs  contains  one  or  more  de- 
serted holes  made  by  woodpeckers,  and  in  these  cavities 
the  tree  swallows  make  their  feathery  nests  and  rear  their 
young  in  comparative  safety.  The  present  name  was 
doubtless  given  to  these  swallows  because  of  their  habit  of 
nesting  in  cavities  in  trees.  "The  white-bellied  swallow," 
says  Robert  Ridgway,  "is  an  abundant  species  where 
there  are  suitable  places  for  the  location  of  its  nests.  Some 
years  ago,  there  were  many  large  dead  stumps  standing 
in  the  water,  in  a  stagnant  pond  connected  with  the 
Wabash  Eiver  immediately  above  the  dam  at  the  Grand 
Rapids,  near  Mount  Carmel.  This  pond  consisted  of 
'back  water'  resulting  from  the  building  of  the  dam,  and 
the  dead  stumps  were  presumably  the  remnants  of  trees 
that  had  been  killed  by  flooding,  since  they  grew  so  thickly 
as  to  leave  no  doubt  of  their  having  once  formed  part  of 
the  adjacent  forest.  These  dead  stumps  and  'snags  '  were 
perforated  by  countless  woodpecker  holes,  and  in  these 
the  white-bellied  swallows  had  their  nests,  as  did  also 
many  pairs  of  Carolina  chickadees  and  prothonotary 
warblers.  The  swallows  were  most  numerous,  however, 
there  being  perhaps  more  than  fifty  pairs  nesting  there. 
In  some  old  elm  trees,  with  dead  tops,  growing  on  the 
•commons'  at  Mount  Carmel,  there  were  also  formerly 
several  pairs  nesting." 

In  the  vicinity  of  Quiver  Lake,  about  two  miles  north 
of  Havana,  Illinois,  the  writer  has  spent  many  agreeable 
days  in  the  resorts  of  the  tree  swallows,  watching  with  in- 
terest their  restless  flight,  or  observing  their  actions  when 
they  would  perch  for  a  few  moments  on  the  bare  limbs  at 
the  top  of  the  stubs.  Among  the  dead  and  decaying 
stumps  they  flutter  and  wheel,  either  for  pleasure  or  to 
feed  on  the  insects  that  swarm  near  the  stagnant  water 
and  decayed  vegetation.  At  times  one  or  more  individuals 
will  perch  on  a  denuded  branch  or  the  top  of  a  stub,  per- 
haps chattering  softly,  sitting  uneasily  for  a  few  minutes 
before  again  launching  forth  in  their  aerial  excursions. 


292  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

Surely  the  air  is  the  natural  element  of  these  swallows! 
They  can  scarcely  compose  themselves  to  rest  for  a  few 
moments.  Their  actions  on  any  perch  indicate  that  it  is 
greater  effort  for  them  to  sit  still  than  to  flutter  here  and 
there  in  the  air  which  bears  them  up  so  lightly.  Even 
when  the  cares  of  home  claim  the  attention  of  the  female, 
she  frequently  slips  out  for  a  few  minutes  of  restful  flight 
about  the  neighborhood.  None  of  the  swallows  are  gifted 
with  musical  voices,  and  the  only  notes  we  hear  from  them 
are  faint  squeaks  uttered  as  they  wing  their  strolling 
flight,  or  when  they  seize  a  choice  morsel  for  their  waiting 
maw.  Occasionally  one  of  the  swallows  can  be  seen  to 
hover  with  fluttering  wings  at  the  entrance  of  a  cavity, 
and  perhaps  we  can  distinguish  several  unfledged  heads 
crowding  out  of  the  aperture  in  hungry  expectation.  Then 
the  careful  mother-bird  will  alight  on  the  rim  of  the 
cavity  and  lovingly  fill  the  emptiness  stretched  toward 
her,  after  which  she  will  flutter  away  to  replenish  the 
larder,  and  the  youngsters  will  drop  back  into  their 
downy  cradle  in  the  cavity. 

The  nesting  season  opens  early  in  May.  I  have  found 
nests  with  full  complements  of  eggs  on  the  10th  of  May, 
though  in  a  season  somewhat  earlier  than  the  average. 
Both  birds  of  a  pair  fetch  materials  for  the  nest,  though 
the  male  generally  delivers  his  contribution  to  the  female, 
and  she  disposes  it  in  the  cavity.  If  he  alight  by  her  side 
with  a  feather  in  his  mouth,  she  will  earnestly  but  gently 
pull  it  away  from  him,  and  herself  fly  with  it  to  the  nest. 
Frequently  the  foundation  of  the  nest  is  a  loose  layer  of 
dried  grass,  and  upon  that  is  the  true  nest  composed  of 
soft  feathers  of  water-fowl  or  the  domestic  chicken.  Some- 
times the  nest  is  made  entirely  of  soft  feathers,  and  I  have 
often  wondered  where  the  birds  obtained  them.  They 
certainly  do  not  find  them  altogether  about  their  watery 
domains.  Probably  they  pick  up  the  feathers  dropped  by 
the  domestic  fowls  which  sometimes  wander  along  the 
banks  of  the  river  and  lake.  The  male  is  so  interested  in 
the  construction  of  the  habitation  that  he  will  carry 
feathers  to  the  place  after  the  eggs  have  all  been  deposited, 
which  the  female  will  caressingly  receive  and  dispose 
properly,  the  eggs  being  sometimes  covered  by  later  ad- 


Tree  Swallow.  293 

ditions  to  her  downy  bed.  The  female  herself  will  oc- 
casionally pick  up  a  feather  in  her  restful  outings  after  a 
period  of  confinement  in  her  nest,  and  bear  it  proudly  on 
her  return  to  her  home.  The  nests  are  in  cavities  at 
varying  heights  from  seven  to  thirty  feet  from  the  ground 
or  the  water. 

On  one  of  our  excursions  to  the  summer  quarters  of 
these  swallows  we  shall  be  afforded  the  opportunity  to  ex- 
amine a  nest.  In  the  entrance  of  a  cavity  about  fifteen 
feet  above  the  water  in  which  a  stub  is  standing,  we  see  a 
head  protruded  with  an  air  of  wonder  as  we  splash 
through  the  muddy  water.  When  we  rap  gently  on  the 
base  of  the  stub,  the  female  flits  forth  and  flies  to  and  fro 
about  her  home,  while  we  climb  the  stub  to  make  an  ex- 
amination. At  times  she  flutters  almost  into  our  face,  and 
angrily  condemns  our  intrusion  with  her  squeaking  notes. 
Her  excited  actions  bring  to  her  aid  other  swallows  nest- 
ing near  her  home,  all  of  whom  pass  and  re-pass,  with 
angry  chattering,  as  we  continue  our  disturbance  of  their 
peace.  The  entrance  is  rather  small,  the  cavity  being 
probably  the  work  of  a  hairy  or  red-headed  woodpecker. 
It  is  too  deep  for  us  to  distinguish  the  contents  without 
enlarging  the  doorway,  but  the  wood  is  so  softened  by  decay 
that  we  can  easily  break  it  away  sufficiently  to  disclose  the 
nest.  Some  of  the  feathers  become  detached  with  the 
wood,  and  fall  floating  through  the  air.  The  observant 
swallows,  now  perched  on  convenient  branches  awaiting 
the  results  of  our  movements,  quickly  launch  forth,  and, 
skimming  over  the  water,  dexterously  catch  the  feathers 
sometimes  before  they  reach  the  water,  and  then  fly 
toward  the  nest,  as  though  immediately  to  replace  the 
scattering  material— a  fine  exhibition  of  skillful  flight  and 
of  maternal  instinct.  In  the  center  of  the  downy  bed, 
which  extends  up  the  sides  of  the  cavity,  so  that  the  eggs 
are  almost  hidden  by  the  curling  tips  of  the  feathers,  are 
the  crystal  white  eggs,  their  freshness  giving  them  a 
rosy  tint.  Repairing  the  entrance  of  the  cavity,  so  that 
the  anxious  birds  may  continue  the  care  of  their  un- 
hatched  treasures,  we  leave  them  in  peaceful  possession  of 
their  homes. 

I  have  found  complements  of  four,  five,  six,  and  seven 


294  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

eggs.  Some  observers  report  as  many  as  nine  eggs  in  the 
complement.  Their  average  size  is  .75  by  .53  of  an  inch. 
As  the  nesting  season  extends  through  the  latter  half  of 
May  and  to  the  end  of  June,  it  is  probable  that  two  broods 
are  reared  in  many  instances  in  this  latitude.  Though  the 
tree  swallows  nest  in  colonies  where  the  circumstances  are 
favorable,  isolated  pairs  are  frequently  found  dwelling  in 
places  which  are  not  suitable  to  colonies.  Any  scattered, 
denuded  stubs  in  or  near  the  water  along  river,  lake,  or 
pond,  may  attract  a  pair  of  these  birds.  Like  some  other 
birds  we  have  mentioned — for  instance,  the  crested  fly- 
catcher— the  tree  swallows  in  some  parts  of  the  country 
have  adapted  themselves  to  the  change  attendant  upon 
civilization,  and  nest  in  the  boxes  prepared  especially  for 
their  use.  This  is  the  case  in  some  parts  of  the  East, 
where  the  earlier  settlement  has  brought  about  greater 
changes  in  the  physical  conditions  of  th.e  country.  They 
also  construct  their  homes  in  recesses  of  large  brick  or 
stone  buildings;  and  Eev.  J.  H.  Langille  says  that  he 
has  seen  their  nests  on  the  ground  under  flat  stones,  and 
in  holes  in  the  ground,  elegantly  lined  with  the  feathers 
of  the  herring  gull  and  of  the  eider  duck,  the  feathers 
being  so  laid  that  the  tips  curled  upward  and  nearly  con- 
cealed the  eggs.  Thomas  Mcllwraith,  concerning  their 
nesting  in  boxes  in  the  East,  thus  writes:  "On  the  ad- 
vent of  the  English  sparrow,  many  pairs  of  swallows 
were  summarily  ejected  from  their  boxes,  and  were 
obliged  to  retire  to  the  remote  parts  of  the  country,  and 
resume  their  primitive  habits  of  nesting  in  trees.  On  this 
account  they  are  not  so  common  in  towns  and  villages  as 
they  were  some  years  ago,  but  are  more  generally  dis- 
tributed throughout  the  country." 

Through  the  remainder  of  the  summer  the  tree  swallows 
continue  their  habits  in  the  earlier  season,  though  their 
social  disposition  and  gregarious  nature  become  more  ap- 
parent with  the  advancement  of  the  season.  As  the 
number  of  individuals  is  increased  by  the  young  broods 
on  the  wing,  old  and  young  wheel  and  gyrate  above  the 
water,  their  squeaking  and  soft  twittering  being  more 
noticeable  from  the  additional  voices.  They  congregate 
in  larger  groups  on  the  bare  branches  of  their  favorite 


Prothonotary  Warbler.  295 

resting-places  and  upon  sand-bars;  and  it  is  probable  that 
in  the  middle  and  late  summer  they  roost  in  numbers 
among  the  flags  and  weeds  of  the  swamp-lakes,  like  some 
others  of  the  swallows. 

The  tree  swallow  is  said  to  inhabit  the  whole  of  tem- 
perate North  America.  It  passes  the  winter  in  southern 
United  States,  Cuba,  Mexico,  northern  Central  America, 
and  the  Bermuda  Islands.  On  its  return  in  the  s'pring  it 
enters  Illinois  soon  after  the  middle  of  March,  varying  to 
the  25th  of  the  month,  according  to  the  advancement  of 
the  season.  It  appears  to  confine  itself  to  the  vicinity  of 
the  water-courses  in  its  migrations.  Indeed,  in  this  section  • 
of  Illinois  it  is  seldom  found  far  away  from  the  rivers  and 
swamp-lakes,  except  when  it  makes  excursions  in  search 
of  nest  materials.  Other  exceptional  instances  are  when 
isolated  pairs  take  up  their  residence  in  the  bird-boxes 
near  rural  dwellings  and  in  town,  thus  appropriating  the 
places  of  the  purple  martins  and  bluebirds  that  have 
withstood  the  encroachment  of  the  English  sparrows. 
The  tree  swallow  leaves  us  about  the  middle  of  September, 
our  lives  brightened  by  its  acquaintance  through  the 
summer,  and  our  minds  filled  with  anticipations  of  the  re- 
curring season  of  birds  and  vernal  beauty. 


PROTHONOTARY   WARBLER. 

Along  the  submerged  margins  of  the  river  and  adjacent 
lakes  the  bird-gazer  will  be  attracted  by  the  voice  and 
movements  of  the  prothonotary  warbler,  and  persons  who 
are  familiar  with  this  elegant  little  creature  in  its  favorite 
surroundings  agree  with  me  that  it  is  a  veritable  gem  of 
the  swampwoods.  There  are  many  handsome  and  even 
beautiful  birds  whose  colors  are  so  closely  assimilated  with 
the  foliage  they  frequent  that  they  are  difficult  to  discover 
in  the  emerald  setting.  Thebeautiful  little  yellow  warbler, 
which  spends  so  many  happy  hours  among  the  foliage  of 
the  maples  along  the  highways,  and  which  recites  its 
simple  ditty  so  persistently  as  it  gleans  its  food  among  the 
fresh  twigs  of  the  orchard  trees,  is  partially  obscured  by 
its  protective  coloration,  though  its  attire  is  pretty  and 


296  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

attractive  in  favorable  light.  Even  the  splendid  and 
loquacious  rose-breasted  grosbeak,  who  leisurely  searches 
the  elm  buds  which  please  his  fancy  for  lurking  insects, 
and  who  as  he  is  working  sings  in  a  manner  noticeable  even 
by  the  most  indifferent  observer,  can  be  discovered  on  his 
perch  only  by  acute  eyes.  The  prothonotary  warbler, 
however,  can  not  be  overlooked,  for  in  its  beauty  it  flashes 
out  from  its  sombre  surroundings  to  the  delight  of  the 
bird-lover.  Its  chosen  home  is  in  the  overflowed  bottom 
lands  of  river  and  swamp-lake,  among  willows  stunted  and 
blighted  by  the  continually  changing  floods,  where  elms 
and  maples  grow  slender  and  tall  and  finally  droop  with 
their  imperfect  garniture  of  sickly  foliage,  where  mud  and 
debris  lie  underfoot,  and  where  the  "twilight  of  the  forest 
noon"  is  never  dispelled  by  the  genial  sunshine.  Amid 
such  environments  we  find  the  vivacious  little  prothono- 
tary warbler  flitting  from  branch  to  trunk,  now  high, 
now  low,  its  short  song  ringing  all  day  long  in  accompa- 
niment to  its  life  of  activity  and  gayety. 

This  handsome  little  warbler  is  by  no  means  shy  in  its 
natural  home,  and  frequently  one  will  alight  near  us  on 
some  bare  twig  and  allow  us  to  observe  it.  Its  chief 
beauty  lies  about  its  head,  and  we  can  not  fail  to  admire 
the  rich  orange  yellow,  a  glowing  background  for  its -jet 
bill  and  eyes,  the  latter  flashing  from  their  coaly  depths 
the  animation  which  makes  the  life  of  this  warbler  so 
attractive  to  the  bird-lover.  The  bill  seems  a  trifle  too 
long  for  the  comparative  size  of  the  bird,  but  its  blackness 
serves  to  make  it  appear  longer  than  it  really  measures. 
Now  the  steely  blue  of  the  back  invites  our  notice,  and 
the  leaden  hue  of  the  shoulders  and  wings.  Away  goes 
the  restless  ci-eature,  but  only  to  reveal  new  beauties;  for 
as  the  warbler  alights  on  another  adjacent  perch,  it  daintly 
expands  its  tail  in  fan-like  movement  and  exhibits  the 
beautiful  border  of  white  adorning  the  sides  and  extremity 
of  that  member.  It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  the  birds 
which  are  possessed  of  handsome  tails  love  to  display  their 
beauties  as  they  fly.  Most  persons  have  seen  the  hand- 
some towhee  or  chewink  flitting  out  of  some  brush  pile  and 
spreading  its  long  black  tail  as  though  to  display  the 
showy  white  tips  of  some  of  the  outer  feathers.  Who 


Prothonotary  Warbler.  297 

that  has  been  a  rambler  of  the  woodland  has  not  seen  the 
redstart  or  the  magnolia  warbler  exhibiting  to  the  best 
advantage  this  most  striking  feature  of  its  attire?  And 
so  the  little  prothonotary  warbler  knows  how  to  invite 
attention  to  the  showily  colored  tail.  Ever  as  it  alights, 
either  on  horizontal  branch  or  clinging  against  the  rough 
bark  of  some  gnarled  and  dead  trunk,  it  spreads  before  us 
the  splendid  combination,  and  we  know  not  which  to 
admire  the  more,  the  beautiful  head  or  the  showy  tail, 
while  underneath  all  is  the  glowing  yellow.  Indeed,  its 
popular  name  of  golden  swamp  warbler  has  been  well  con- 
ferred upon  it,  for  like  flashes  of  golden  light  it  flits  here 
and  there,  and  in  the  swamps  only  is  it  at  home. 

This  warbler  is  found  regularly  in  the  Mississippi  Val- 
ley, tending  toward  the  south,  and  casually  in  the  north- 
eastern United  States  and  New  Brunswick.  It  occurs 
westward  to  Kansas,  Indian  Territory,  and  Texas.  It  is 
perfectly  migratory,  wintering  beyond  the  United  States 
to  South  America.  In  early  seasons  this  warbler  appears 
in  this  locality  about  the  middle  of  April,  though  ordina- 
rily it  does  not  reach  our  latitude  until  the  third  week  of 
April.  For  two  or  three  weeks  after  its  arrival  it  resorts 
to  the  loftier  foliage  and  lives  somewhat  silent  and  se- 
cluded among  the  tree  tops.  However,  the  cheerful,  viva- 
cious spirit  of  this  gentle  creature  will  not  suffer  it  to  re- 
main long  without  giving  expression  to  its  emotions. 
"With  the  rapid  advance  of  the  season  it  descends  into  the 
"  lower  story  "  of  its  leafy  dwelling,  becomes  more  mu- 
sical, and  exhibits  all  the  qualities  which  make  it  one  of  the 
most  interesting  of  the  warblers. 

It  is  a  pity  that  the  prothonotary  warbler  does  not 
dwell  where  it  might  be  seen  and  observed  daily  by  all 
bird  lovers.  But  perhaps  it  is  well  enough  as  it  is,  for 
many  of  the  handsome  and  interesting  birds  that  dwell 
almost  about  our  doors  are  now  neglected  and  even  over- 
looked by  persons  who  in  other  respects  are  moderately 
observant.  Then  the  swamp-woods,  naturally  dark  and 
gloomy  and  sombre,  would  be  deprived  of  much  of  their 
extrinsic  cheer  and  animation,  if  this  mite  of  life  and  color 
were  transferred  from  them.  The  glimmering  brightness 
of  such  localities  should  lead  us  more  frequently  to  explore 


298  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

their  recesses.  If  the  prothonotary  warbler  will  not  come 
to  us,  we  who  love  the  birds  should  go  to  it,  even  though 
we  must  wade  mud  and  water  and  trip  over  fallen  brush- 
wood to  reach  its  home  and  find  it  happy  among  its  com- 
panions. And  among  its  fellows  it  loves  to  be,  for  a  mer- 
rier and  more  social  woodsman  never  lived !  Seldom  does 
it  sit  long  by  itself  chanting  its  loudly  ringing,  vibratory 
ditties.  It  is  soon  up  and  away  in  swift  pursuit  of  some 
passing  rival, and  in  midair  the  two  flutter  with  outspread 
wings  and  expanded  tails,  dropping  lower  and  lower  in 
playful  conflict,  until  one  darts  away  to  alight  on  a  con- 
venient perch  or  until  both  drop  into  the  water. 

We  are  not  surprised  to  observe  that  the  vivacity  of  the 
male  makes  him  an  ardent  lover.  After  a  fluttering  tilt 
with  a  designing  rival,  in  which  he  has  driven  the  pre- 
sumptuous gallant  from  the  neighborhood,  he  gracefully 
and  smilingly  presses  his  suit  with  more  fervent  twitter- 
ing and  expressions  of  devotion.  Having  shown  her  that 
he  is  willing  to  battle  for  the  possession  of  her,  he  seeks 
further  to  captivate  her  with  his  handsome  form  and  glow- 
ing attire,  shaking  out  before  her  the  beauty  of  his  wings, 
and  unfolding  for  her  admiration  his  beautiful  blue  tail 
with  its  white  border.  Thus  he  attends  her  movements 
with  devoted  manner,  flitting  near  her  when  she  coyly 
moves  farther  from  him,  or  taking  a  seat  near  her  that  he 
may  renew  his  whispered  vows  when  she  seems  indiffer- 
ent to  his  winning  words  and  acts  of  devotion. 

In  the  mating  season  their  activity  and  pugnacious  dis- 
positions are  most  readily  discovered.  They  are  jealous 
lovers,  and  as  they  are  seldom  far  from  their  homes  at 
any  time,  a  passing  male,  whether  seeking  a  partner  of  his 
joys  or  merely  going  about  his  business,  is  very  likely  to 
be  assailed  jealously  by  the  claimant  of  the  premises.  A 
fluttering  battle  of  yellow,  steely  blue,  and  white  is  the 
usual  result,  though  these  conflicts  are  generally  harmless 
to  both  parties,  and  serve  only  to  give  unwonted  anima- 
tion to  the  sombre  life  of  the  swamp-woods.  They  chase 
one  another  in  apparently  reckless  flights  among  the 
underbrush  and  through  the  foliage,  and  dart  around  the 
tree-trunks  with  entire  disregard  for  accidents,  quickly 
alighting  and  uttering  that  characteristic  song  which  rings 


Prothonotary  Warbler.  299 

out  with  regularly  increasing  pitch,  short  but  loud,  clear, 
and  remarkably  vibratory. 

They  are  very  restless  creatures.  All  about  the  claimed 
limits  of  the  pair  the  male  flits,  peering  into  every  nook 
and  cavity,  examining  every  available  site  for  a  home, 
and  picking  up  morsels  of  food  from  the  crevices  of  the 
logs  and  stumps.  Frequently  in  his  explorations  the 
male  peeps  into  a  cavity  occupied  by  the  wife  of  a  neigh- 
bor. He  scarcely  has  time  to  withdraw  his  head,  how- 
ever, ere  the  jealous  owner  guarding  the  exterior  is  upon 
him,  and  the  prying  visitor  is  not  slow  in  retreating  before 
the  fierce  assault  of  the  watchful  sentinel.  The  inordinate 
restlessness  of  these  warblers  is  second  only  to  that  of  the 
wrens,  and  we  are  reminded  of  the  movements  of  those 
little  busybodies  as  we  watch  the  warblers  incessantly 
hopping  and  flitting  from  one  station  to  another.  They 
are  known  as  "  willow  wrens  "  in  some  localities,  yet  while 
their  habits  are  so  nearly  like  those  of  the  wrens,  they 
are  real  warblers,  and  their  song  is  not  much  unlike  that 
of  the  well-known  yellow  warbler,  though  it  is  executed 
with  more  spirit  and  intensity. 

The  nesting  period  of  the  prothonotary  warbler  begins 
soon  after  the  first  of  May  in  advanced  seasons,  and  about 
the  middle  of  the  month  in  ordinary  years.  In  1896  I 
found  nests  with  full  sets  of  eggs  on  the  12th  of  May,  yet 
in  ordinary  seasons  the  nests  do  not  contain  their  comple- 
ments until  about  the  20th.  The  usual  nesting  sites  are 
cavities  in  stumps  and  trees  standing  in  water,  or  so  sit- 
uated that  the  nest  is  over  water,  or  somewhere  in  the 
vicinity  of  water.  In  seasons  of  drought  the  early  reced- 
ing of  the  water  frequently  leaves  their  nesting  grounds- 
bare  and  dry,  as  it  did  in  1895  in  the  locality  where  my 
notes  were  made.  It  was  my  fortune  that  spring  to  exam- 
ine about  fifty- five  nests  of  the  warbler.  While  the  sites 
of  all  the  nests  were  on  the  banks  of  rivers  and  lakes,  no 
site  was  found  in  water  or  over  water,  though  in  the  next 
spring  most  of  the  same  sites  were  in  water  which  did  not 
recede  before  the  close  of  the  nesting  period.  My  notes 
record  only  two  nests  below  five  feet  from  the  ground, 
and  in  the  majority  of  instances  the  cavities  were  about 
nine  feet  from  the  ground,  the  distances  varying  from  four 


300  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

and  a  half  feet  to  fourteen  feet.  If  these  grounds  were 
submerged,  of  course  the  sites  of  the  nests  would  be  nearer 
the  water.  If  the  stub  or  trunk  inclines,  the  cavity  is 
always  on  the  under  side,  this,  however,  being  the  work 
of  the  downy  woodpecker  or  the  chickadee  which  exca- 
vated the  dwelling.  Most  of  the  nests  I  have  examined 
were  in  new,  unused  excavations,  begun  by  the  builders 
in  the  preceding  fall  and  completed  during  the  winter 
and  early  spring.  They  are  nearly  always  in  unsound 
wood,  so  decayed  that  the  surrounding  parts  can  be  easily 
broken  away  with  the  fingers. 

Among  most  of  the  birds  it  seems  to  be  understood  that 
the  females  are  chiefly  responsible  for  the  construction  of 
the  homes  in  which  the  broods  are  to  be  reared.  Loving 
and  attentive  as  most  of  the  males  are  in  the  mating  time, 
they  seem  to  know  that  their  domestic  duties  are  of  a  higher 
order  than  mere  weaving  and  plastering.  Indeed,  can  it 
be  that  in  their  love  concerns  they  evince  such  ardor  and 
persistence  because  they  know  that  their  part  of  the  home- 
building  is  to  be  music  and  easy  dalliance  instead  of  hum- 
drum, prosy  labor?  Shame  upon  us  to  impute  such  a 
motive  to  the  earnest  little  lover  of  whom  we  are  writing. 
Though  his  mate  must  fetch  the  materials  she  wishes  for 
her  mossy  habitation,  he  shows  his  willingness  to  help  by 
flitting  by  her  side  now  and  then  in  her  hurried  trips, 
and  even  attempting  to  gather  fragments  of  moss  or  other 
materials  which  please  his  fancy.  When  he  does  not 
accompany  her,  he  lingers  about  the  site,  perhaps  to  hold 
possession  from  neighbors  who  are  disposed  to  disregard 
his  prior  claim;  and  when* she  returns  with  her  slight 
burden,  he  lovingly  joins  her  near  the  doorway  and 
attends  her  with  all  possible  gallantry.  In  every  way  he 
gives  her  to  understand  that  only  deference  to  custom 
prevents  him  from  carrying  her  burdens,  and  that  she 
need  give  no  thought  to  the  ordinary  supplies  for  the 
table — he  is  amply  able  and  willing  to  procure  everything 
desired  in  that  line. 

Is  it  strange  that  we  so  intuitively  associate  elegance 
and  taste  with  the  homes  of  birds  of  beautiful  plumage  and 
refined  manners?  Who  would  fancy  that  a  rustic  bed 
made  from  a  wisp  of  dried  grass  is  the  ideal  of  the  elegant 


Prothonotary  Warbler.  301 

bluebird?  Or  who,  upon  first  acquaintance  with  our 
stout,  burgher  robin,  would  think  that  he  dwelt  in  a  mud 
hovel?  The  prothonotary  warbler  is  a  striking  example 
of  beauty  in  uncouth  surroundings.  I  own  that  1  was  dis- 
appointed on  first  examining  a  nest  of  this  warbler  and 
finding  only  a  flimsy  bed  of  dark  and  dried  materials. 
The  handsomest  part  of  the  nest  is  the  foundation,  which 
is  ordinarily  composed  of  small  pieces  of  dark  green  moss. 
On  the  mossy  foundation  is  a  layer  of  skeleton  leaves, 
fibrous  roots,  dried  leaves,  and  weed  stems,  averaging  less 
than  an  inch  in  thickness.  The  nest  is  finished  internally 
with  fine  grass  and  a  few  horse  hairs.  In  some  instances 
the  moss  is  almost  entirely  lacking,  and  in  others  the 
intermediate  layer  is  very  flimsy;  but  such  is  the  typical 
nest,  with  few  variations  to  show  individual  taste.  Very 
few  of  the  nests  I  have  examined  were  three  inches  high. 

There  is  a  groat  diversity  both  in  the  size  and  in  the 
coloration  of  the  eggs  of  this  warbler.  In  one  type  of 
coloration  the  eggs  appear  to  be  miniatures  of  the  eggs  of 
the  towhee,  having  fine  dots  of  light  reddish  brown  evenly 
and  scantily  distributed  over  the  pinkish  white  ground. 
Then  there  is  the  style  of  marking  which  makes  the  eggs 
resemble  those  of  the  house  wren  on  a  larger  scale,  having 
the  specks  of  reddish  brown  so  thickly  and  evenly  dis- 
tributed that  the  eggs  have  nearly  that  color.  The  hand- 
somest eggs  have  a  ground  of  china  white,  or  like  cream 
that  has  just  been  poured  over  strawberries,  with  large 
marks  of  cherry  and  walnut  and  lilac,  some  of  the  marks 
being  so  confluent  at  the  larger  end  that  they  form  com- 
paratively large  areas.  In  about  seventy-five  nests  which 
I  examined  in  two  seasons,  I  found  no  complement  of 
more  than  six  eggs,  and  I  found  complete  sets  of  three, 
four,  five,  as  well  as  six.  Sets  of  six  appear  to  be  more 
common  in  my  experience  than  any  other  number. 
Some  accurate  observers  report  sets  of  seven  occasionally, 
and  one  or  more  instances  of  eight  eggs  in  the  comple- 
ment. Only  once  did  I  find  an  egg  of  the  cowbird,  which 
was  in  a  set  of  six,  lying  in  the  back  part  of  the  nest,  the 
entrance  measuring  two  inches  high  and  one  inch  and  a 
half  wide. 

While  the  master  of  the  household  is  cheerfully  guard- 


302  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

ing  the  portals  and  vicinity  of  his  home,  the  mistress  is 
no  less  faithfully  brooding  the  interior.  She  is  not  deco- 
rated with  colors  quite  so  bright  as  those  which  make  the 
male  a  flash  of  brilliant  cadmium;  for  the  yellow  of  her 
head  is  one  degree  less  glowing,  though  her  eyes  are  uo 
less  flashing.  When  we  tap  the  stump  which  shelters  her 
home,  it  is  interesting  to  note  her  look  of  startled  wonder 
as  she  peeps  out  to  learn  the  cause  of  her  alarm.  A 
single  rap  on  the  stub  containing  the  nest  will  generally 
cause  the  female,  if  she  be  within,  to  dart  from  the  en- 
trance after  the  first  startled  look.  She  drops  almost  to 
the  ground,  where  she  flutters  along  with  outspread  tail, 
stopping  now  and  then  on  a  convenient  weed-stalk  or 
fallen  branch,  softly  twittering,  with  tail  spread  in  fan-like 
appearance,  and  with  slightly  outspread,  quivering  wings. 
This  is  when  she  exhibits  her  maternal  anxiety  in  the 
most  appealing  manner;  and  surely  we  must  be  hard- 
hearted if  we  can  withstand  the  entreaty  expressed  in  the 
slightly  lifted  wings  and  the  scarcely  audible  twitterings. 
Scarcely  has  she  alighted,  however,  before  another  form 
darts  to  her  side,  and  both  hop  among  the  foliage  and 
branches  about  us,  both  earnestly  chirping  now  and 
scolding  at  the  intrusion  we  so  rudely  make  into  the 
quiet  home.  If  we  have  despoiled  the  home,  the  female 
will  flit  to  the  site  when  we  depart,  and  cling  to  the  side 
of  the  ruin,  gazing  into  the  cavity  for  a  time  without 
audible  expression  of  feeling,  as  though  at  a  loss  to  know 
what  has  happened  to  her  home.  Then  she  will  creep 
into  the  now  enlarged  cavity,  and  make  a  round  of  in- 
spection. After  emerging,  she  will  fly  to  where  the  male 
is  still  chirping,  or  perhaps  now  making  the  air  to  vibrate 
with  his  loud  ditties.  Then  another  visit  to  the  spot  will 
be  made,  followed  by  the  same  wondering  examination  of 
the  cavity. 

In  my  rambles  once  I  found  a  cavity  made  by  a  chick- 
adee in  the  preceding  year,  and  later  somewhat  enlarged, 
not  more  than  four  and  a  half  feet  from  the  ground,  in  a 
low,  gnarled  willow  stump.  Peeping  into  it,  I  saw  the 
slender  black  bill  of  the  mother  warbler,  and  then  the 
bright  eyes  which  apprised  me  that  she  was  wide-awake 
and  alert.  I  struck  the  stub  below  the  entrance  several 


King  Rail.  303 

times  with  a  stout  stick,  but  the  devoted  mother  bird 
only  ruffled  her  feathers  and  crouched  lower  over  her 
treasures.  How  I  admired  the  handsome  little  creature 
as  she  thus  persistently  waited  to  share  the  fate  of  her 
household !  When  I  inserted  my  finger  into  the  cavity,  she 
only  moved  slightly  to  either  side;  and  she  finally  suffered 
me  to  remove  her  gently  from  her  eggs,  darting  swiftly 
away  when  I  released  her  in  the  open  air.  After  my  exam- 
ination of  the  premises  during  the  ordinary  remonstrances 
of  the  owners,  I  withdrew  a  short  distance  to  watch  their 
actions.  Soon  the  mother  bird  alighted  and  clung  to  the 
entrance,  peering  into  the  cavity.  Seeing  her  home  as  she 
left  it,  she  popped  into  the  recess  and  took  her  station  upon 
the  eggs,  whilethe  male  sat  on  a  near  perch  and  repeated  his 
ringing  melody.  Truly  the  acquaintance  ot  such  a  happy 
•woodland  family  will  compensate  any  upland  observer  for 
his  efforts  to  form  it. 

The  ringing  chant  of  the  prothonotary  warbler  is  heard, 
though  with  less  frequency  and  spontaneity,  through  July 
and  in  early  August.  The  warbler  becomes  more  se- 
cluded through  the  moulting  season,  again  resorting  to  the 
tree-tops,  as  it  did  immediately  after  its  spring  advent, 
and  shows  little  of  the  active  spirit  which  is  its  chief 
charm  in  the  mating  season.  In  its  solitary  mood  it  does 
not  care  to  sport  with  its  companions,  as  it  did  in  the  early 
days  of  vivacious  rivalry,  to  all  appearances  procuring  its 
livelihood  with  quiet  demeanor  until  its  annual  southward 
movement.  The  time  of  its  departure  varies  from  the 
latter  part  of  August  to  the  first  week  of  September. 


EAIL. 

There  are  some  birds  which  are  found  only  locally 
throughout  their  habitat  in  particular  regions  which  sup- 
ply the  conditions  necessary  to  their  peculiar  habits.  The 
charming  species  last  sketched  is  a  fair  example  of  the 
birds  whose  residence  depends  upon  certain  favorable  con- 
ditions,  and  the  king  rail  likewise  makes  its  home  only  in 
particular  environments.  It  is  a  typical  bird  of  the  swamp- 
lake,  and  only  in  its  weedy  resorts  can  it  be  observed 


304  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

and  studied  with  any  degree  of  profit.  Its  position  among 
rails  is  no  mean  one,  as  is  indicated  by  its  proud  title  of 
"king  rail,"  and  its. neat,  trim  figure,  its  handsome  attire 
and  noble  bearing  are  all  comprehended  in  its  specific 
name  of  elegans ;  it  is  the  elegant  rail  both  in  name  and 
in  fact. 

The  home  of  the  king  rail  is  the  swamps  and  marshes 
in  eastern,  southern,  and  middle  United  States.  It  is 
found  as  far  west  as  Colorado,  and  frequently  wanders  as 
far  north  as  southern  and  western  Canada  and  the  Dako- 
tas.  It  is  the  fresh  water  representative  of  the  clapper 
rail,  which  is  so  common  on  the  salt  water  marshes  of  the 
Atlantic  coast.  It  makes  its  way  into  the  swamp-lakes 
of  this  region  early  in  April,  and  finds  a  congenial  sum- 
mer home  until  the  latter  part  of  October.  It  dwells 
almost  entirely  in  the  swamps  and  meadows  bordering 
them,  living  in  such  privacy  that  the  untrained  observer 
might  spend  whole  days  in  the  swamps  and  not  be  sensi- 
ble of  its  presence,  except  from  the  sharp  cries  it  utters 
and  the  nests  which  he  might  happen  to  find.  Indeed, 
the  extreme  wariness  of  the  rail  is  the  first  characteristic 
which  impresses  the  mind  of  the  student  who  is  forming 
its  acquaintance. 

It  is  quite  averse  to  taking  wing,  and  it  is  so  thoroughly 
at  home  in  the  watery,  flag-covered  tangles  that  only 
close  pursuit  by  men  and  dogs  can  force  it  to  rise  from  its 
hiding  places  and  seek  safety  in  flight.  It  prefers  to  run 
through  the  weeds  and  brake,  where  it  can  hide  from 
threatening  danger,  skulking  among  the  thickly  growing 
tufts  of  flags,  and  gliding  between  the  close,  upright  stems 
with  the  celerity  of  some  of  the  smaller  sparrows  in  their 
movements  through  the  grass  of  the  meadow.  If  its  pur- 
suers begin  to  close  in  upon  it,  it  does  not  hesitate  to  run 
out  into  the  deeper  portions  of  the  swamp,  and  sometimes 
it  dwells  in  the  parts  of  the  swamp  where  it  can  not  wade 
without  having  most  of  its  body  under  the  water.  I  have 
frequently  seen  one  plunge  boldly  into  water  where  it  cer- 
tainly could  not  wade.  It  is  said  to  swim  readily,  and 
sometimes  to  walk  on  the  bottom  where  the  water  is  above 
its  head  in  search  of  its  food. 

The  king  rail  has  a  wonderful  ability  to  secrete  itself  in 


Kiny   Rnil  305 

the  reeds  almost  under  one's  feet,  and  it  can  thread  its 
way  through  the  stems  in  places  which  appear  impassable 
even  to  its  slender  body.  However,  it  is  not  compelled  to 
walk  in  the  mud  and  through  the  water  to  get  to  its  habi- 
tation in  the  deeper  water,  for  it  has  large  feet  and  long 
toes,  with  which  it  can  walk  upon  the  bent  reed  stems  and 
submerged  vegetation.  I  have  seen  it  run  over  the  float- 
ing "  punkin  vines  "  as  easily  and  firmly  as  though  it  were 
on  dry  ground.  I  am  certain  I  should  not  attempt  to  run 
one  down  in  its  watery  kingdom,  for  it  can  sprint  like  a 
young  turkey,  and  is  so  thoroughly  familiar  with  its 
swampy  resorts  that  we  conceive  its  perfect  adaptation  to 
its  surroundings.  It  is  amusing  to  watch  the  game  of 
"  hide-and-seek  "  it  plays  with  a  self- conceited  dog  that  is 
not  versed  in  the  baffling  ways  of  the  king  rail.  After 
many  settings  and  pointings  at  the  elusive  sprite  of  the 
reeds,  the  dog  will  finally  give  up  in  a  manner  that  plainly 
says  "  sour  grapes,"  and  thereafter  pay  no  attention  to  the 
presence  of  this  creature,  if  he  be  a  dog  that  can  learn  by 
experience. 

Sometimes  the  king  rail  will  start  up  in  hasty  flight 
when  quickly  approached  or  surprised,  especially  when  it 
is  on  the  migration,  and  before  it  is  comfortably  settled  in 
its  summer  home.  Frequently,  when  it  reaches  its  resorts, 
the  high  water  and  the  absence  of  the  later  tall  growth 
of  reeds  compel  it  to  depend  more  on  its  powers  of  flight 
to  escape  danger  than  upon  its  ability  to  run  and  hide  in 
its  reedy  coverts.  When  it  is  surprised  and  flushed  under 
circumstances  which  are  not  favorable  to  its  hiding,  it 
starts  up  with  a  somewhat  labored  movement,  beating  the 
air  with  rapid  strokes,  and  dangling  its  long  legs  like  the 
herons  and  bitterns  as  they  spring  into  the  air.  Its  wings 
seem  rather  short  compared  with  its  body,  and  as  it  has  a 
short  tail,  its  first  movements  in  flight  seem  aimless  and 
unbalanced,  but  when  it  is  well  under  way  it  flies  steadily 
and  strongly.  When  in  full  flight  its  body  appears  unusu- 
ally long,  because  it  stretches  forward  its  head  and  neck, 
and  protudes  its  legs  behind  its  body.  Like  the  bitterns, 
it  drops  abruptly  at  the  end  of  its  short  flights,  and  imme- 
diately runs  through  the  reeds  from  its  alighting  place, 
on  which  account  it  is  difficult  to  flush  a  second  time. 
20 


306  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

The  belated  wanderer  can  see  these  birds  flying  in  the 
twilight  on  their  way  to  their  feeding  grounds.  It  is 
probable  that  they  are  somewhat  nocturnal  in  their  habits, 
feeding  chiefly  at  night  and  resting  in  their  reedy  hiding 
places  through  the  day. 

The  nests  of  the  king  rails  are  usually  covered  with 
water,  or  where  the  water  is  shallow,  but  when  the  banks 
of  the  swamps  are  more  sloping  the  nests  are  made  in 
iiufts  in  the  deeper  water,  though  more  nests  are  found  in 
the  fringing  flags.  I  learned  mentally  to  divide  the  width 
of  flags  in  large  swamps  into  three  zones,  the  outer  one 
occupied  by  the  rails,  the  middle  one  by  the  coots,  galli- 
nules,  and  bitterns,  and  the  inner  third  by  the  bitterns 
and  grebes,  though  each  species  named  can  be  found  nest- 
ing in  all  parts  of  a  swamp  to  a  limited  extent.  The  late 
•nests  are  found  nearer  the  open  water,  and  the  nests  with 
incubated  eggs  are  found  in  the  drier  area  in  the  borders 
of  the  swamps.  We  may,  therefore,  generalize  that  the 
rails  locate  their  nests  where  the  water  is  receding,  and 
they  perhaps  intend  that  the  ground  shall  be  uncovered 
of  water  when  the  young  step  from  the  nest.  I  never 
found  late  nests  on  the  dry  or  uncovered  ground,  but  I 
have  examined  nests  with  incubated  eggs  in  the  outer 
flags  where  the  ground  was  uncovered  and  even  baked 
hard. 

The  nests  of  the  king  rail  are  commonly  made  of  small 
pieces  of  flag  stems,  the  material  in  the  upper  portion 
having  a  softer  texture  than  the  rushes  which  form  the 
base  of  the  nest.  One  of  average  dimensions  is  eight 
inches  in  diameter  externally,  and  six  inches  across  the 
shallow  bed,  the  latter  being  one  inch  and  three-fourths 
in  depth;  a  nest  projects  from  six  to  ten  inches  above  the 
water  in  which  the  tuft  of  flags  stands.  In  most  instances 
it  is  impossible  to  distinguish  the  nest  of  the  king  rail 
from  that  of  the  Florida  gallinule,  usually  found  in  the 
same  swamps,  by  the  construction  alone;  yet  the  drooping 
of  the  tops  of  the  flags  in  the  tufts  containing  the  rail's 
nest  is  almost  characteristic,  and  is  only  rarely  seen  in  the 
nest  of  the  gallinule.  On  the  other  hand,  the  habitation 
of  the  king  rail  is  rarely  found  open  above.  Many  nests 
of  the  gallinule  average  much  larger  than  any  nest  of 
the  rail. 


Xing  Kail.  307 

The  king  rails  generally  begin  to  nest  about  the  first  of 
May,  but  soon  after  the  middle  of  April  in  unusually  dry 
seasons.  In  the  latter  instances  the  nests  are  made  in  tufts 
of  flags  or  grass  on  the  dry  ground,  frequently  in  parts  of 
the  swamp  which  are  used  as  feeding  grounds  for  herds  of 
cattle.  Sometimes  the  nests  on  the  dry  ground  are  made 
like  the  home  of  the  meadow  lark,  a  convenient  depression 
being  found  in  a  tuft  of  grass,  in  which  a  bed  of  dried  grass 
is  spread,  and  the  upper  ends  of  the  stems  drawn  together 
to  serve  as  a  canopy.  The  presence  of  the  shelter,  made 
by  the  drooping  and  drawing  together  of  the  tops  of  the 
stems,  is  a  pretty  certain  index  of  a  nest  with  its  full 
complement,  though  I  have  frequently  examined  nests 
with  incomplete  sets  thus  sheltered.  The  eggs  in  a  com- 
plement number  from  eight  to  fourteen,  sets  of  ten,  eleven, 
and  twelve  being  the  most  common.  They  are  a  dingy 
cream  color,  having  small  spots  of  varying  shades  of  brown, 
and  deeper  shell  markings  of  light  purple  scantily  and 
irregularly  distributed  over  the  surface  anywhere,  some- 
times more  thickly  at  the  larger  end.  In  size  the  eggs 
vary  from  1.55  to  1.90  long,  and  from  1.16  to  1.29  broad 
in  inches. 

It  is  not  unusual  to  find  a  king  rail  in  her  canopied 
home  sitting  contentedly  in  the  shade  of  the  reedy  walls, 
and  the  first  glimpse  of  her  brown  form  will  amply  com- 
pensate us  for  the  difficulties  encountered  in  reaching  her 
home.  If  we  are  not  over  hasty  she  will  give  us  time  to 
impress  on  our  memory  a  picture  that  we  may  recall  with 
pleasure.  She  does  not  regard  the  fact  that  we  are  only 
three  feet  away,  and  bending  over  her  with  eager  eyes. 
She  is  not  frightened,  but  interested,  and  the  expression 
of  wonder  in  her  face  plainly  asks  what  sort  of  creature 
are  we.  She  broods  her  nest  lightsomely,  turning  her 
head  to  watch  us  with  wondering  look.  Thus  we  observe 
her  long  cylindrical  bill,  so  well  adapted  to  procuring  her 
food  in  the  mire  and  shallow  water.  Soon  she  glides  from 
her  nest,  and  with  easy  motion  runs  among  the  adjacent 
reeds,  passing  between  the  base  of  the  stems  with  such 
facility  that  we  at  once  note  her  compressed  body,  and 
hence  understand  more  fully  the  meaning  of  the  expres- 
sion, "as  thin  as  a  rail."  She  does  not  go  far,  but  turns 


308  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

to  run  among  the  reeds  about  us,  uttering  a  harsh  cackle 
not  unlike  the  cry  of  the  guinea-fowl,  and  having  a  pecu- 
liar metallic  ring.  It  can  be  very  well  represented  by 
the  syllable  "  cairk."  Anxiously  and  impatiently  she  runs 
in  and  out  among  the  tufts  while  we  remain  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  nest,  loudly  and  angrily  disputing  our  right  to 
examine  the  premises.  As  she  hovers  about  us  in  the 
reeds,  now  coming  into  sight  a  moment  and  then  quickly 
'shrinking  behind  a  tuft,  she  manifests  considerable  bold- 
ness, hence  we  conclude  she  can  exercise  her  sovereign 
rights  when  she  deems  it  wise.  As  we  follow  her  restless 
movements  among  the  stems,  we  can  note  the  main  fea- 
tures of  her  plumage.  Her  upper  parts  are  yellowish- 
brown,  striped  with  black.  Her  throat  is  white,  and  the 
cinnamon  brown  of  her  breast  has  led  the  sportsmen  to 
style  her  the  "red-breasted  rail."  Her  bill  looks  rather 
longer  than  her  head,  and  occasionally  we  can  see  the 
bright  red  of  the  iris  when  she  turns  her  head  sidewise 
in  her  remonstrances. 

The  king  rail  is  said  to  be  irritable  and  quarrelsome  in 
its  disposition,  and  it  is  especially  overbearing  toward  its 
neighbors.  The  species  should  be  named  the  "queen 
rail,"  for  the  female  is  without  doubt  the  head  of  the 
family.  Is  it  not  she  who  sometimes  takes  possession  of 
the  homes  of.  her  meek  neighbors,  the  gallinules?  Is  it 
not  she  who  defends  her  home  so  spiritedly  when  it  is 
threatened?  Hence  it  seems  to  me  that  the  king  rail  is 
more  king  by  marriage  than  in  his  own  right.  She  lords 
it  over  tho  gentle-spirited  mud-hens  with  whom  she 
dwells,  and  frequently  saves  herself  the  labor  of  making  a 
nest,  and  the  time  to  lay  so  many  eggs,  by  appropriating 
both  nest  and  eggs  of  a  comfortably  settled  gallinule.  I 
have  frequently  found  nests  containing  incubated  eggs  of 
the  Florida  gallinule  and  fresh  eggs  of  the  rail.  On  May 
18,  1895, 1  found  a  nest  containing  eight  incubated  eggs  of 
the  gallinule  and  five  fresh  eggs  of  the  rail,  the  eggs  of  the 
former  occupying  the  middle  of  the  nest,  and  the  eggs  of 
the  latter  lying  in  the  outer  circle — indubitable  evidence 
to  me  that  the  rail  was  the  usurper  of  the  home. 

The  food  of  the  rail  is  taken  chiefly  from  the  shallow 
water  and  the  soft  mud  in  its  resorts.  There  it  finds 


American  Bittern.  309 

aquatic  insects,  young  crayfish,  snails,  tadpoles,  minnows, 
animalcules,  besides  the  seeds  of  the  various  aquatic  plants. 
It  probably  procures  a  bountiful  living,  as  such  localities 
are  rich  in  animal  and  plant  life  to  supply  the  needs  of  the 
swamp  birds.  The  economical  relations  of  the  king  rail 
are  not  so  important  to  the  farmer  and  the  gardener  as 
those  of  the  birds  that  resort  to  the  woodlands  and  open 
upland  prairies;  yet  it  is  without  doubt  a  useful  member 
of  avian  society,  and  certainly  worthy  the  slight  attention 
given  to  it  by  those  who  sometimes  visit  its  home  in 
the  swamp-lakes. 

AMEKICAtf  BITTEKX. 

While  there  are  some  birds  which  have  readily  adapted 
themselves  to  the  changing  conditions  brought  about  by 
the  increase  of  rural  population,  there  are  others  which  do 
not  take  so  kindly  to  the  rapid  encroachments  upon  their 
domains.  The  latter  have  withdrawn  to  secluded  localities 
where  they  may  retain  all  their  primitive  habits.  Such  has 
been  the  action  of  the  American  bittern,  formerly  so  com- 
mon throughout  this  prairie  region  that  it  could  be  found 
on  every  little  slough  and  water-course.  The  draining 
of  the  sloughs  so  characteristic  of  the  original  prairie 
regions,  and  the  drying  up  of  the  smaller  streams  in  con- 
sequence of  the  steady  clearing  of  the  forests,  have  de- 
prived many  of  the  water  birds  of  the  scattered  resorts 
they  found  so  attractive.  Now  the  American  bittern  can 
be  found  only  in  the  swamp-lakes  and  bottom  meadows 
of  the  larger  rivers.  Like  the  American  Indian,  it  has 
retired  before  the  advancing  wave  of  civilization,  and 
clings  to  the  old  and  marked  characteristics  of  its  race. 
When  seeking  new  resorts,  however,  the  bittern  can  some- 
times be  seen  flying  over  the  prairies  just  before  nightfall, 
always  flying  high  and  somewhat  slowly  beyond  the 
reach  of  harm  and  detailed  observation. 

The  habitat  of  the  American  bittern  is  temperate  North 
America;  in  summer  from  the  southern  limits  of  the  mid- 
dle States  to  about  the  sixtieth  parallel,  and  in  winter  from 
the  Southern  States  to  Guatemala,  West  Indies,  and  the 
Bermudas.  In  central  Illinois  it  is  perfectly  migratory, 


310  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

reaching  its  swampy  home  about  the  middle  of  April, 
where  it  can  be  found  by  experienced  observers  until  the 
last  of  October.  Its  shy  disposition  is  more  apparent  than 
that  of  the  king  rail,  and  unless  we  chance  upon  it  in  our 
tramps  through  the  bog,  we  might  fail  to  notice  its  pres- 
ence. It  is  not  dexterous  in  running  and  skulking  in  its 
reedy  haunts,  but  is  of  a  more  contemplative  disposition, 
and  when  undisturbed  will  stand  almost  motionless  for 
many  minutes.  Its  attitude  in  this  mood  is  most  peculiar. 
It  elevates  the  forepart  of  its  slender  body  until  it  is  nearly 
in  a  line  with  its  long  legs,  and  then  stretching  upwards 
its  long  neck  and  sharp,  pointed  bill  in  the  same  contin- 
uous line,  it  stands  rapt  in  reverie.  Only  acute  observa- 
tion can  then  detect  it  among  the  stems  of  the  reeds  with 
which  it  is  so  closely  assimilated.  Thus  it  lives  through 
the  day,  like  an  anchorite,  spending  hours  in  reverie  and 
contemplation,  no  doubt  reputed  to  be  wise  and  sage  by 
the  other  inhabitants  of  the  swamp-lake  who  pass  it  in 
their  more  active  enjoyment  of  the  bright  hours  of  the 
day. 

When  disturbed  in  its  resting  places  in  the  daytime, 
the  bittern  arises  in  a  hurried,  nervous  manner,  with  legs 
dangling  and  neck  outstretched,  jerking  its  body  forward 
with  every  flap  of  its  strong  wings,  hoarsely  squawking. 
Its  harsh  cry  of  alarm  sounds  something  like  the  syllable 
"kawk,"  and  persons  who  live  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
swamps  know  the  bittern  as  the  "  squawk,"  from  the 
hoarse,  guttural  note  it  utters.  It  ordinarily  flies  some 
distance,  rising  above  the  reeds  in  a  slightly  ascending 
line  until  the  end  of  its  flight,  when  it  drops  rather 
abruptly  into  the  flags  in  another  part  of  the  area.  When 
one  is  well  under  way,  it  sometimes  soars  easily  and  grace- 
fully like  one  of  the  larger  buzzard-hawks,  though  the 
long  legs  thrust  backward  and  the  neck  bent  upon  the 
forepart  of  the  body  indicate  its  relationship  to  the  herons. 
Sometimes  one  will  soar  and  circle  high  in  the  air  of  its 
own  accord,  and  I  have  thus  seen  individuals  floating  at 
such  great  heights  that  one  unacquainted  with  their  pecu- 
liar habits  would  believe  them  to  be  hawks. 

When  one  arises  in  the  startled  manner  described,  on 
slowly  beating,  heavy  pinions,  moving  unsteadily  because 


American  Bittern.  311 

of  its  lack  of  the  strong,  rudder-like  tail  by  which  the 
smaller  birds  guide  their  quick  flights,  and  uttering  its 
harsh  squawks,  other  individuals  within  hearing  or  sight 
frequently  take  warning  at  the  alarm  of  the  first  bird  and 
arise  in  the  same  manner.  They  then  mount  to  a  mod- 
erate height  and  soon  combine  into  a  flock,  sometimes  as 
many  as  thirty  in  the  flying  company,  and  thus  they  cir- 
cle around  the  outskirts  of  the  swamp  for  a  few  minutes, 
after  which  they  settle  one  by  one  in  other  parts  of  the 
lake  to  continue  their  feeding  and  contemplation  until 
they  are  again  disturbed.  Thus  while  they  seem  to  enjoy 
solitude  and  live  somewhat  independently  of  the  others 
in  the  swamp,  each  feeding  and  resting  some  distance  from 
his  fellows,  at  times  they  discover  a  slight  community. 
However,  their  communications  with  one  another  are  like 
the  veritable  yea  and  nay  of  the  scriptural  injunction. 

In  the  typical  swamp-lake  I  usually  found  the  Ameri- 
can bitterns  feeding  about  one-third  the  way  out  into  the 
swamp,  beyond  the  muddy  zone  and  in  the  shallow  water 
somewhat  less  than  a  foot  deep.  There  the  water  would 
frequently  become  turbid  with  the  ooze  stirred  up  in  their 
quest  for  food.  I  have  surprised  them  feeding  mostly  in 
the  afternoons,  and  they  seemed  to  be  more  numerous  in 
their  resorts  to;vai-d  night.  Other  observers  assert  that 
they  feed  chiefly  at  night.  Colonel  Goss  says :  "They  leave 
their  hiding  places  at  the  approach  of  night,  and  I  have 
occasionally  found  them  searching  for  food  during  the 
day,  in  cloudy,  rainy  weather.  Their  food  consists  of 
minnows,  field  mice,  frogs,  tadpoles,  crawfish,  insects,  and 
other  small  forms  of  life;  and  as  evidence  of  their  destruc- 
tive habits  I  will  say  that  I  found  in  the  craw  and  stomach 
of  one,  shot  beside  a  very  small  pool  of  water  upon  over- 
flowed land,  twenty-two  sunfish,  averaging  a  little  over 
an  inch  in  length." 

As  we  continue  our  acquaintance  with  the  American 
bittern,  we  soon  become  familiar  with  its  heavy,  guttural 
notes,  the  "booming  cry  of  the  bittern."  Especially  in 
the  mating  and  nesting  period  can  it  be  heard  issuing  from 
the  reedy  coverts.  The  notes  have  suggested  various 
sounds  and  syllables  to  different  observers,  and  have  caused 
corresponding  titles  to  be  conferred  upon  the  species  by 


312  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

the  residents  of  the  regions  in  which  it  is  common.  The 
deep  bass  notes  are  so  peculiar  that  they  are  readily  recog- 
nized after  being  once  identified.  To  me  they  suggest  the 
syllables  "boo-hoo,"  accented  on  the  first,  and  uttered  in 
a  rumbling  tone,  not  unlike  the  deep  bellowing  of  a  bull 
at  a  distance. 

If  the  bird-gazer  can  espy  one  of  these  birds  in  a 
poetic  mood,  standing  among  the  flags  on  one  foot,  in  the 
attitude  peculiar  to  the  heron  and  cranes,  the  other  foot 
drawn  up  well  under  the  body,  and  the  head  drooping 
forward  on  the  breast  in  drowsy  indifference,  and  then 
watch  the  same  bird  suddenly  alter  his  whole  mien  in  the 
execution  of  his  notes,  the  sight  is  worth  remembering  for 
its  ludicrous  features.  The  bird  first  adjusts  his  ungainly 
members  into  a  more  compact  form,  and  then  apparently 
attempts  to  disgorge  something  which  his  stomach  rejects. 
In  the  act  of  throwing  forward  his  head,  he  utters  with 
this  apparently  painful  effort  the  low,  rumbling,  bellow- 
like  notes  with  which  he  expresses  the  depth  of  his  affec- 
tion for  his  lady-love.  It  is  no  wonder  that  this  bittern  is 
vulgarly  called  the  "  bog-bull "  and  the  "thunder-pumper," 
for  the  rumbling  notes  and  the  contortions  exhibited  in 
their  execution  suggest  these  expressive  titles.  It  also  has 
a  peculiar  call  which  at  a  distance  sounds  like  the  driving 
of  a  stake  with  a  maul.  The  notes  represent  the  sound  of 
the  stroke,  followed  by  its  echo  in  the  woods,  and  hence 
the  species  is  frequently  called  the  "  stake-driver."  The 
voice  of  the  bittern  is  heard  chiefly  toward  the  close  of 
the  afternoons,  when  the  dreamer  emerges  from  his 
lonely  retirement,  and  desires  the  companionship  of  some 
congenial  spirit.  Through  the  twilight  and  into  the  early 
part  of  the  night  the  notes  can  be  heard  at  irregular  in- 
tervals, for  the  bitterns  are  like  the  bats  and  the  whip- 
poor-wills  in  their  crepuscular  habits. 

The  nesting  period  begins  about  the  first  of  May  in 
ordinary  seasons,  though  in  advanced  seasons  nidification 
begins  correspondingly  earlier.  The  nests  can  be  found 
through  May  and  June,  and  even  into  the  .early  part  of 
July,  though  only  after  freshets  have  caused  the  water  to 
rise  and  destroy  early  nests  do  we  find  their  habitations  so 
late  in  the  season.  When  the  birds  are  living  in  any 


American  Bittern.  313 

swamp  in  numbers,  tho  nests  may  not  be  widely  scat- 
tered, so  that  in  some  instances  the  bitterns  appear  to  nest 
somewhat  in  community.  If  there  are  only  a  few  pairs 
inhabiting  a  swamp  of  any  extent,  they  usually  choose 
sites  in  different  parts  of  the  area,  well  apart  from  the 
other  families. 

The  nests  are  generally  situated  among  the  reeds  on  or 
near  the  ground  or  above  water.  Sometimes  they  are 
placed  on  low  bushes  or  "  buck  brush  "  growing  in  the 
swamp.  They  ai*e  found  in  the  most  secluded  and  inac- 
cessible places  in  the  swamp,  or  near  the  edge  of  a  lake  or 
small  body  of  water  inhabited  by  the  birds.  The  bitterns 
make  their  nests  like  the  coots,  using  coarse,  thick  rushes, 
piled  in  the  tuft  or  clump  of  reeds  selected  to  a  height 
varying  from  eight  to  fourteen  inches.  Unlike  the  coots, 
the  bitterns  usually  line  their  nests  with  dried  grass. 
Frequently  small  sticks  are  used  to  give  additional 
strength  and  stability  to  the  nests.  The  structures  vary 
from  one  to  two  feet  in  diameter,  though  they  are  very 
shallow,  the  depression  for  the  eggs  being  about  the  size 
and  capacity  of  &  saucer.  Often  the  nest  is  well  pro- 
tected by  the  over-arching  tops  of  the  surrounding  stems. 
The  eggs  number  four  or  five,  sometimes  only  three. 
They  are  brownish  drab  or  coffee-colored,  measuring  from 
1.90  to  2.00  inches  in  length,  and  from  1.40  to  1.50  in 
breadth. 

The  female  broods  her  eggs  very  closely,  and  is  not 
easily  induced  to  leave  them.  She  generally  suffers  the 
observer  to  pass  quite  near  her  home  without  making  its 
location  known  by  lumbering  into  the  air,  and  it  is 
frequently  necessary  to  stumble  almost  upon  the  nest  be- 
fore she  will  rise.  Sometimes  she  will  not  even  then  leave 
her  nest,  but  remains  with  her  charge  until  she  is  re- 
moved by  force.  Often  she  displays  considerable  pug- 
nacity, ruffling  her  feathers  until  she  resembles  an  angry 
turkey  gobbler,  facing  the  intruder  at  every  turn,  ready 
with  her  long,  sharp  bill,  which  she  darts  fiercely  at  her 
enemy.  Like  the  herons,  she  is  mostly  all  bill,  neck,  legs, 
and  feathers.  As  she  thus  valiantly  defends  her  home, 
we  are  afforded  the  opportunity  to  note  her  chief  charac- 
teristics. The  prevailing  color  of  her  upper  parts  is  yel- 


314  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

lowish  brown,  streaked  and  sprinkled  with  darker  shades. 
The  upper  mandible  of  the  long,  javelin-like  bill  is  dark, 
the  lower  mandible  more  yellowish.  The  iris  of  her 
flashing  eye,  now  glaring  angrily  upon  us,  is  bright  yel- 
low, and  her  feet  are  yellowish  green.  As  she  thus 
crouches  over  her  treasures,  with  wings  partly  spread  and 
body  thrown  back,  so  that  she  can  launch  her  weapon 
with  greater  momentum,  she  is  indeed  a  doughty  cham- 
pion. Her  undaunted,  Spartan-mother-like  defense  of  her 
home  excites  our  respect,  and  we  leave  her  to  rear  her 
brood  in  peace.  We  may  chance  upon  a  nest  containing 
downy  young,  while  the  valiant  mother-bird  is  absent  to 
procure  supplies.  Their  long,  brownish-yellow  down, 
growing  in  patches  over  the  head  and  body,  causes  the 
little  creatures  to  look  even  as  comical  as  the  mother-bird 
in  her  wrath,  or  the  father-bird  when  uttering  his  love- 
notes. 

PIED-BILLED  GREBE. 

One  of  the  commonest  birds  of  the  swamp-lake  is  the 
pied-billed  grebe,  though  it  is  not  confined  to  the  swamps 
of  the  river  bottoms.  When  the  glamour  of  nature  began 
to  draw  my  steps  afield  and  along  shore,  I  learned  to 
know  this  gentle,  suspicious  creature.  Frequently  I  met 
it  gliding  over  the  surface  of  the  small  inland  ponds  in 
my  daily  rounds,  and  its  remarkable  adroitness  in  diving 
soon  showed  me  the  folly  of  my  thoughtless  attempts  to 
shoot  it.  Won  by  its  graceful  movements  on  the  water 
before  I  discovered  that  it  is  well-nigh  helpless  on  land,  I 
added  it  to  the  increasing  list  of  my  avian  friends,  and 
ceased  to  persecute  it  when  I  chanced  upon  it.  Its  names, 
both  popular  and  scientific,  are  unpleasant  in  sound,  and 
none  of  them  is  likely  to  awaken  interest  in  the  owner. 
Among  the  hunters  and  inhabitants  of  the  swamp  regions 
it  is  commonly  known  as  the  "hell-diver,"  and  though 
this  term  expresses  the  most  notable  characteristic  of  the 
grebe,  it  is  not  an  appropriate  appellation  for  the  graceful, 
buoyant  bird  riding  in  the  water  with  head  erect,  watch- 
ful for  possible  danger.  The  local  name  "  water-witch  " 
is  by  no  means  inapt,  for  the  creature  disappears  below 


Pied-Billed  Grebe.  315 

the  surface  of  the  water  so  lightly  as  scarcely  to  start  the 
ripples,  and  appears  at  a  distance  as  though  evoked  from 
the  nymphean  realms.  The  terms  "dipper  ''  and  "diadip- 
per  "  are  also  suggestive  of  the  rapid  disappearance  of  the 
little  creature  as  it  dips  forward  into  its  favorite  element. 
The  appellation  of  "dabchick"  is  another  point  in  evi- 
dence of  the  fact  that  its  names  are  not  euphonious, 
though  they  may  be  expressive  and  apt  in  their  meaning. 
This  grebe  has  an  extensive  geographic  distribution, 
inhabiting  the  southern  British  Provinces,  most  of  the 
United  States,  and  ranging  southward  to  Brazil  and 
temperate  South  America,  as  well  as  the  West  Indies, 
breeding  throughout  the  most  of  the  above  regions  in  suit- 
able localities.  In  Illinois  it  is  a  regular  summer  resi- 
dent, reaching  the  central  part  of  the  State  on  its  north- 
ward movement  about  the  middle  of  April,  and  remaining 
until  the  last  of  September.  On  its  migration  and  after  the 
breeding  season  it  is  rather  trustful,  and  any  of  the  small 
inland  ponds  and  lakes  may  be  tenanted  for  a  short  time 
by  one  or  more  of  these  grebes,  though  the  pond  may  be  a 
resort  for  the  small  boys  of  the  neighborhood  as  a  swim- 
ming place.  Sometimes  a  millpond  or  an  open  branch 
of  water  in  town  or  city  will  allure  one  to  rest  for  a  few 
days  from  the  weariness  resulting  from  a  journey  unsuited 
to  its  powers,  but  which  it  is  actuated  to  undertake  by 
irresistible  instinct  to  seek — 

"  The  plashy  brink 
Of  weedy  lake,  or  marge  ot  river  wide." 

Once  settled  upon  a  resting  place  it  is  not  easily  evicted, 
and  sometimes  loses  its  life  from  the  aversion  to  take  wing 
in  escaping  danger. 

The  natural  home  of  the  grebe  is  the  reedy  swam-p  or 
lake,  where  it  can  procure  abundant  supplies  of  food,  and 
can  readily  find  secure  retreats  without  recourse  to  flight. 
The  stagnant  water  teems  with  insects,  tiny  minnows, 
animalcules,  and  seeds  of  water  grasses,  and  among  the 
lily  pads  and  reed  stems  it  can  quickly  and  securely  hide 
from  fancied  or  real  danger.  The  materials  it  uses  in 
constructing  its  soggy,  miniature  mound  are  ready  at 
hand  ;  and  thus  freed  from  the  struggle  of  "  keeping  soul 


316  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

and  body  together,"  it  can  sport  with  its  fellows'  and 
enjoy  its  round  of  existence.  After  the  rest  of  several 
days  or  a  week  on  the  open  and  unprotected  ponds  of  the 
inland  districts,  it  makes  its  way  to  the  swamp-lakes,  or 
other  suitable  nesting  areas,  and  is  seldom  seen  on  the 
ponds  again  until  after  its  brood  is  reared. 

The  grebes  are  not  handsome  birds,  and  the  colors  of 
the  pied-billed  species  are  not  even  attractive.  Seen  as 
it  floats  lightly  over  the  water,  and  glides  away  from  us 
to  place  itself  at  a  safe  distance,  it  presents  a  dark  brown 
as  the  prevailing  color  of  the  upper  parts,  and  its  breast 
is  dingy  white.  Its  tail,  like  the  tails  of  most  of  the 
swimmers,  is  merely  a  pointed  tuft  of  downy  feathers. 
The  wings  are  similarly  covered,  lacking  the  strong  flying 
quills  so  essential  to  the  wings  of  birds  more  given  to 
flight.  Owing  to  the  insertion  of  its  legs  toward  the  rear 
of  the  body,  it  is  extremely  awkward  on  land,  and  tumbles 
forward  in  its  helpless  attempts  at  locomotion.  In  the 
air  it  is  at  almost  equal  disadvantage,  its  movements  being 
labored  and  tiresome.  But  on  the  water  it  floats  with 
the  buoyancy  of  down,  agile  as  the  summer  breeze,  easily 
diving  to  escape  shot  or  bullet,  and  swimming  long  dis- 
tances under  water  to  elude  its  pursuers. 

The  vigilance  of  the  grebes  is  apparent  to  one  who 
visits  their  colonies,  for  on  such  occasions  few  individuals 
are  seen,  and  the  unsuspecting  visitor  might  determine 
that  the  grebes  were  not  nesting  about  any  particular 
area  of  water.  I  have  sometimes  spent  whole  days  in 
their  breeding  resorts,  and  found  their  nests  by  the  dozen, 
without  getting  a  glimpse  of  a  bird.  When  suspicious 
of  danger  or  observation,  they  are  quick  to  secrete  them- 
selves in  their  reedy  surroundings,  and  only  when  the 
visitor  is  hidden  can  he  watch  their  movements  near  their 
homes.  When  they  are  undisturbed,  however,  they  reveal 
a  nature  no  less  buoyant  than  their  deportment  when 
sporting  in  their  natural  element.  In  "Our  Birds  in 
Their  Haunts,"  Eev.  J.  H.  Langille  thus  writes  concern- 
ing them:  "They  seem  most  active  between  daylight  and 
sunrise.  Then,  if  one  is  well  hid  away  by  the  still  water, 
their  active  swimming  and  graceful  diving  can  be  seen 
to  good  advantage.  Spreading  considerably  apart,  they 


Pied- Billed   Grebe.  317 

allow  themselves  plenty  of  room.  How  the  ripples,  started 
by  their  breast,  enlarge  like  arcs  of  circles  on  the  glassy 
surface,  and  intersecting  each  other,  move  on  increasingly 
to  the  shore!  In  quick  succession  they  glide  softly  under 
the  water  and  remain  for  some  time,  no  doubt  taking  their 
food  of  small  fishes  and  aquatic  grasses.  Nothing  can 
exceed  the  ease  and  gracefulness  with  which  they  dive, 
so  tipping  under  the  water  as  barely  to  ruffle  the  mirror- 
like  surface.  Presently  they  reappear,  one  after  another, 
shaking  their  heads,  and  looking  this  way  and  that,  as 
if  to  make  sure  of  their  safety,  but  still  swimming  well 
out  of  the  water.  Gliding  along  much  more  rapidly  than 
ducks,  they  describe  their  elegant  curves  for  a  few  sec- 
onds, and  then  all  disappear  again.  What  a  happy  family 
they  are! " 

In  this  section  of  Illinois  the  grebes  begin  to  nest  about 
the  first  of  May,  and  full  complements  of  incubated  eggs 
are  found  by  the  middle  of  the  month.  They  are  among 
the  earliest  of  the  birds  of  the  swamp-lakes  in  their  nidi- 
fication,  though  the  height  of  the  water  causes  the  time 
of  nesting  to  vary  considerably.  Of  the  many  nests  I 
have  examined,  all  were  situated  among  the  flags  in  the 
deeper  parts  of  the  swamp,  and  I  learned  not  to  seek 
them  outside  the  inner  half  of  the  zone  of  flags  encircling 
the  open  area  of  water.  When  they  nest  on  small  ponds, 
they  anchor  their  homes  along  the  weedy  margin.  The 
presence  of  a  pair  or  more  of  these  birds  on  a  body  of 
standing  water  in  late  May  and  June  is  prima  facie  evi- 
dence that  the  birds  have  comfortable  quarters  somewhere 
within  swimming  distance. 

The  nests  are  very  similar  in  construction.  In  every 
instance,  in  my  observation,  they  are  anchored  among 
the  stems  of  adjacent  flags,  not  among  those  which  grow 
thickly,  but  among  those  which  stand  in  tufts,  leaving 
little  areas  among  them,  thus  furnishing  sites  for  the  nests 
in  'the  open  spaces.  A  typical  nest  is  a  little  mound  of 
blackened,  decaying  vegetable  matter,  evidently  dredged 
principally  from  the  bottom  of  the  pond.  It  is  generally 
about  three  inches  high,  seldom  more  than  five,  from 
eight  to  ten  inches  across  the  top,  and  from  sixteen  to 
eighteen  inches  in  diameter  at  the  surface  of  the  water. 


318  Sketches  of  Some   Common 

The  cavity  for  the  eggs  is  from  five  to  six  inches  across, 
and  is  comparatively  shallow,  being  rarely  more  than  an 
inch  and  one-half  deep.  Attached  to  the  broad  rim  of  the 
mound,  like  entangled  raveling  from  the  material  in  the 
mass,  there  is  from  a  pint  to  a  quart  of  loose,  shred-like, 
blackened  material,  which  is  used  by  the  female  in  cover- 
ing the  eggs  in  her  absence.  The  mound  is  made  of  grass, 
flag  stems,  moss,  and  mud,  all  in  a  soaked,  decayed  condi- 
tion, interwoven  with  the  roots  and  subterranean  portions 
of  the  stems  amid  which  it  is  anchored.  Few  that  I 
have  examined  would  float  easily  if  detached  from  their 
surroundings. 

An  interesting  feature  of  the  incubation  of  this  grebe  is 
seen  in  the  fact  that  the  female  covers  the  eggs  when  she 
leaves  them  for  a  time,  unless  she  is  completely  surprised 
on  the  nest  and  forced  to  leave  so  hurriedly  that  she  can 
not  take  time  to  place  her  home  in  order.  However,  I 
have  never  been  able  to  surprise  one  on  her  nest,  though 
other  bird-seekers  have  been  more  fortunate.  Some  writers 
assert  that  this  grebe  covers  her  eggs  by  day,  and  de- 
pends upon  the  combined  heat  of  the  sun  and  the  decom- 
position of  the  matter  in  the  soggy  mound  to  keep  up 
their  temperature,  the  bird  incubating  only  at  night.  The 
fact,  however,  proved  by  accurate  observation  of  the  birds 
in  their  breeding  resorts,  is  that  the  female  patiently 
broods  her  eggs  by  day  as  well  as  by  night.  She  sits 
closely  on  her  eggs,  seldom  leaving  them  to  take  food,  and 
the  covering  material  is  so  disposed  that  it  can  be  hastily 
scratched  over  the  eggs  almost  by  one  motion  of  her  short 
legs.  I  have  found  many  nests  over  which  the  shreddy 
covering  had  been  thus  hastily  thrown,  for  one  or  more  of 
the  eggs  were  partially  exposed.  Complements  in  nests  I 
have  examined  varied  from  five  to  nine,  and  even  larger 
sets  are  recorded.  The  eggs  are  bluish  white  when  fresh, 
but  contact  with  the  nest  often  tinges  them  with  yellowish- 
brown  stains.  Frequently  the  eggs  are  more  or  less 
thickly  covered  with  a  limy  or  chalky  granular  coating, 
which  obscures  the  ground-color.  Davie  gives  the  average 
size  of  the  eggs  of  this  grebe  as  1.72  by  1.17,  in  inches.  The 
breeding  season  extends  until  the  latter  part  of  June  in  ex- 
ceptional instances. 


American  Coot.  319 

At  the  close  of  the  breeding  season  many  of  the  grebes 
doubtless  leave  the  swamp-lakes  for  local  open  ponds 
scattered  over  the  country,  away  from  the  bottom  regions. 
After  early  July  individuals  may  frequently  be  seen  glid- 
ing over  such  ponds,  generally  solitary,  sometimes  in  pairs. 
When  they  are  not  harassed  beyond  endurance,  they  may 
remain  until  the  time  of  migration,  if  the  pond  supplies 
them  proper  food.  It  is  probable  that  many  begin  their 
southward  movement  early,  and  travel  by  easy  stages, 
lingering  here  and  there  on  local  ponds  and  reservoirs 
which  please  their  fancy.  From  the  imperfect  adaptation 
of  their  wings  to  flight,  it  seems  that  they  would  journey 
on  their  migrations  as  much  as  possible  by  water.  It  is 
natural  that  they  should  be  unwilling  to  forsake  the 
friendly  element.  The  very  features  of  their  structure, 
which  render  them  awkward  and  almost  helpless  on  land, 
give  them  additional  advantage  in  the  water.  The  slight 
movements  of  their  feet,  situated  toward  the  rear  of  the 
body,  tip  the  head  and  breast  forward,  and  give  them 
the  remarkable  ease  noticeable  in  their  diving,  so  much  so 
that  none  of  the  water  birds  exhibits  greater  dexterity. 
In  illustrating  the  doctrine  of  compensation,  Emerson 
might  have  chosen  no  object  more  appropriate  than  the 
structure  of  the  grebes ;  for  while  nature  has  left  them  ap- 
parently defective  in  some  features,  she  has  amply  com- 
pensated them  by  conferring  upon  them  more  enlarged 
powers  in  other  directions. 


AMERICAN    COOT. 

The  commonest  birds  of  the  swamp-lakes  are  the  Amer- 
ican coots.  Everywhere  through  the  fringing  growth  of 
flags  their  unsheltered  nests  are  to  be  found,  and  out  upon 
the  open  water  their  dark  forms  dot  the  shimmering  sur- 
face. To  the  inhabitants  of  these  regions,  and  to  gunners 
generally  who  are  not  familiar  with  their  book  names,  the 
coots  and  the  gallinules  are  known  as  "mud-hens."  The 
coots  are  readily  identified  by  the  milk-white  bill,  and  are 
locally  known  as  the  "white-billed"  or  "ivory-billed" 
mud-hens,  to  distinguish  them  from  the  Florida  gallinules, 


320  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

or  "red-billed"  mud-hens,  with  which  they  intimately  as- 
sociate. The  coots  can  be  studied  to  advantage  only  in 
the  marshes,  though  on  the  migrations  they  sometimes 
stop  to  rest  a  few  hours  on  the  small  prairie  ponds  and 
streams;  but  like  the  other  water-fowl,  particularly  the 
ducks  and  geese,  they  are  extremely  vigilant,  ever  alert 
and  suspicious  of  danger,  quickly  taking  wing  at  such 
times  to  escape  threatened  harm.  In  their  breeding 
season  they  limit  their  movements  to  localities  favorable 
for  nesting  and  rearing  their  young.  The  rank,  dense 
growth  of  flags  and  other  aquatic  grasses,  common  to  the 
swamp-lakes  such  as  we  have  described,  furnishes  the 
coots  and  associated  species  suitable  shelter  for  themselves 
and  their  broods,  and  in  the  abundance  of  minute  aquatic 
life,  both  animal  and  vegetable,  they  find  a  convenient 
and  well-stocked  larder. 

The  coots  are  found  throughout  the  whole  of  North 
America,  and  in  tropical  America  to  northern  South 
America,  the  Bermudas,  and  West  Indies.  The  birds 
which  spend  the  summer  in  the  northern  and  middle 
portions  of  their  habitat  migrate  toward  the  south  in  the 
fall,  wintering  in  the  southern  States  and  in  the  lower 
portions  of  their  extensive  range.  They  are  said -to  be 
less  common  along  the  Atlantic  coast  above  the  southern 
States,  but  are  found  locally  everywhere  in  the  limits  de- 
scribed. Their  chief  breeding  grounds  are  in  the  southern 
British  Provinces  and  northern  United  States.  They  are 
comparatively  hardy,  and  make  their  appearance  soon 
after  the  breaking  of  winter,  following  the  heavy  mi- 
grations of  other  water-fowl,  their  feebler  powers  of  sus- 
tained flight  causing  them  to  journey  more  slowly  than 
most  of  the  ducks,  which  are  well  known  to  be  strong 
flyers. 

The  first  coots  are  generally  seen  when  the  regular 
migration  of  the  water-fowl  is  at  its  height.  They  appear 
in  the  overflowed  regions  near  their  summer  home  soon 
after  the  middle  of  March,  their  numbers  being  steadily 
increased  until  the  middle  of  April.  Their  fondness  for 
companionship  manifests  itself  during  the  migration  and 
after  they  reach  the  end  of  their  journey  ;  for  the  coots  on 
any  particular  body  of  water  mostly  feed  together  and 


American   Coot.  321 

sport  over  its  surface  in  company,  discovering  a  buoyant 
nature  when  not  suspicious  of  observation.  They  resort 
chiefly  to  the  margins  of  the  open  water,  perhaps  wishing 
to  have  the  friendly  covert  of  the  growing  flags  at  hand  in 
case  of  need.  In  their  migrations  the  mud-hens  are 
greatly  harassed  by  the  bald  eagle,  duck  hawk,  and  other 
rapacious  birds;  and  out  on  the  open  water  farther 
from  the  protecting  reeds  they  have  slighter  chance  of 
escaping  the  terrific  swoop  of  their  enemy. 

When  the  water  recedes  in  ordinary  manner  after  the 
spring  overflow  so  common  in  the  swamp-lakes,  the 
coots  begin  to  nest  comparatively  early,  generally  having 
their  nests  made  by  the  last  of  April,  and  their  full  com- 
plement of  eggs  by  the  middle  of  May.  I  have  frequently 
found  before  the  middle  of  May  sets  of  eleven  eggs  almost 
ready  to  hatch.  Beckoning  eight  days  for  incubation 
advanced,  and  one  day  for  each  egg  deposited,  we  have 
nineteen  days;  counting  backward  nineteen  days  from 
the  middle  of  May,  we  find  that  the  female  began  laying 
in  the  last  week  of  April,  and  nidification  probably  began 
in  the  third  week  of  the  month.  In  Mr.  Nelson's  list  of 
birds  of  Cook  and  adjacent  counties,  the  note  concerning 
the  coot,  quoted  in  Natural  History  Survey  of  Illinois, 
Vol.  II.,  page  85,  says  that  they  arrive  at  the  end  of  April, 
and  remain  until  the  end  of  November;  but  the  coots 
should  make  their  appearance  earlier  in  the  northern 
portion  of  our  State,  since  they  begin  to  nest  in  Fulton 
County  late  in  April  in  ordinary  seasons.  If  the  water 
overflowing  the  river  bottoms  is  slower  in  receding,  the 
coots  nest  toward  the  outer  areas  of  the  swamps,  where 
the  water  soonest  becomes  shallower  and  where  the  flags 
first  appear  at  the  proper  height,  "just  above  knee-high," 
as  an  inhabitant  of  the  bottom  regions  told  me  should  be 
the  height  of  the  flags  when  the  birds  begin  to  nest. 
When  the  swamp  varies  from  two  and  three  feet  of  water 
in  the  open  area  to  soft  mud  and  dry  ground  at  the  outer 
margin  of  the  flags,  the  nests  may  be  placed  anywhere 
within  the  inner  two-thirds  of  the  reedy  fringing  zone, 
though  they  increase  in  number  toward  the  deeper  water. 
I  never  found  a  nest  in  the  open  water,  but  I  have  found 
them  on  the  dry  area,  always  among  the  flags. 
21 


322  Sketches  of  Some   Common  Birds. 

The  nest  is  commenced  by  breaking  down  or  biting  off 
the  flags  in  the  spot  selected,  usually  in  the  midst  of  a 
thick  tuft  of  grass,  which  will  serve  as  a  basis  for  the 
structure.  Upon  the  tuft  selected,  old  coarse  rushes  and 
flag  stems  are  piled  until  the  nest  is  nearly  of  the  required 
height  and  size,  and  ?t  is  finished  with  smaller  pieces 
of  soft  dried  flags.  Most  of  the  nests  have  an  oblique 
approach,  made  of  coarse  dried  stems  bent  down,  extend- 
ing from  the  top  of  the  nest  to  the  surface  of  the  water. 
The  nest  is  always  exposed  above,  but  is  generally  well 
surrounded  by  the  adjacent  upright  stems.  It  is  some- 
times described  as  floating,  but  all  that  I  have  examined, 
situated  in  deep  water,  were  built  on  flag  stems  bent  over 
as  a  basis,  and  hence  they  could  not  sink,  though  they 
might  rise  with  a  sudden  advance  of  the  water. 

A  typical  nest  is  from  seven  to  nine  inches  high  above 
the  water,  and  eight  to  ten  inches  across  the  top.  The 
cavity  is  from  six  to  eight  inches  in  diameter  at  the  top, 
and  from  two  to  three  inches  deep.  When  there  is  an 
approach  to  the  nest  it  varies  in  length  from  twelve  to 
eighteen  inches.  Complete  sets  consist  of  eight  to  eleven 
eggs,  and  the  average  is  ten  or  eleven,  for  other  observers 
report  even  larger  sets.  They  generally  have  an  ashy- 
gray  or  a  dark-clay  ground,  frequently  appearing  pale 
cream  white  in  the  nest  exposed  to  the  sun,  as  most  of 
the  nests  are,  and  they  are  somewhat  thickly  and  uni- 
formly marked  with  small  specks  of  blackish  brown. 
While  they  resemble  the  eggs  of  the  gallinule  in  shape, 
they  are  quite  different  in  general  style  of  color  and^ mark- 
ings, the  eggs  of  the  Florida  gallinule  having  a  much 
lighter  ground  of  dingy  cream,  and  the  markings  are 
larger  and  less  regular,  some  of  the  spots  being  bold 
blotches  of  light  reddish  brown,  and  there  are  generally 
deeper  markings  of  light  purple  and  pale  lilac.  Most  of 
the  eggs  of  the  coot  measure  between  1.90  and  2.00  inches 
in  length,  and  between  1.28  and  1.40  in  width,  the  average 
being  somewhat  smaller  than  the  eggs  of  the  Florida 
gallinule. 

If  we  wish  to 'see  the  coots  at  their  best,  we  should  visit 
the  swamp-lakes  about  the  middle  of  May,  when  the 
water  is  at  ordinary  height  in  the  swampy  regions.  Hav- 


American  Coot.  323 

ing  left  the  bank  of  the  river  and  threaded  the  growth  of 
willows,  we  reach  the  "buckbrush,"  among  which  the 
flags  appear.  Pushing  our  way  through  the  tangled  stems 
and  branches  of  the  intervening  brush,  we  see  the  great 
area  of  green  before  us,  and  we  are  soon  in  the  rank  vege- 
tation. Around  us  and  from  almost  under  our  feet  arises 
a  curious  medley  of  strange,  uncouth  sounds,  cackling, 
squawking,  groaning,  singing,  and  splashing,  though  few 
birds  are  in  sight.  Before  the  close  of  our  visit  we  shall 
learn  something  of  the  vigilance  of  these  birds  in  their 
resorts,  for  they  are  rarely  surprised  on  the  nest,  and  are 
as  rarely  seen  in  its  neighborhood. 

As  we  approach  the  open  area  we  can  see  the  coots 
among  the  lily  pads,  feeding  in  social  fellowship,  and 
apparently  enjoying  the  society  of  their  companions. 
Having  startled  them  by  our  approach,  we  must  secrete 
ourselves  in  the  border  of  the  flags  if  we  wish  an  oppor- 
tunity to  observe  them,  for  they  are  likely  to  recede  as 
we  advance.  Occasionally  one  will  take  flight  from  the 
water,  by  running  or  skimming  over  the  surface  witk 
flapping,  whirring  wings  and  rapidly  patting  feet,  splash- 
ing the  water  at  every  stroke  of  its  large  feet,  thus  grad- 
ually rising  into  the  air.  Their  habit  of  running  over 
the  water  has  caused  them  to  be  called  "splatterers  "  by 
some  sportsmen  and  hunters.  Dr.  Coues  tells  us  that  in 
some  parts  of  the  Northwest  they  are  called  "shufflers  " 
or  "  flusterers,"  certainly  very  appropriate  nicknames. 
They  do  not  fly  far  at  a  time  at  this  season,  but  when 
well  in  the  air  their  movements  are  easy  and  swift,  not 
unlike  those  of  the  wild  ducks,  though  for  a  short  dis- 
tance after  rising  above  the  water  they  keep  up  the  pat- 
ting movement  of  the  feet.  In  alighting  they  erect  the 
body  almost  vertically  in  the  air,  stopping  their  progress 
by  the  resistance  of  the  body  and  the  surface  of  their  flap- 
ping wings. 

The  coots  are  numerous  in  the  flags  around  us,  and  as 
the  commotion  consequent  upon  our  arrival  has  now  sub- 
sided, we  can  hear  them  splashing  in  the  water  as  they 
leave  their  nests.  The  birds  can  step  from  their  habita- 
tions into  the  water  and  swim  directly  into  the  open  area; 
and  along  the  edges  of  the  flags  individuals  appear,  coming 


324  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

from  their  duties  of  incubation  and  ignorant  of  our  pres- 
ence. Frequently  one  -will  chase  another  with  dignified 
ardor,  skimming  over  the  -water  with  light,  graceful  move- 
ments, slightly  nodding  the  head  when  in  easy  motion, 
though  at  times  of  greater  animation  they  extend  the 
head  and  neck  forward  at  full  length.  We  seldom  see 
them  dive,  for  they  take  most  of  their  food  from  the  sur- 
face of  the  water  and  from  the  floating  vegetation.  How- 
ever, when  occasion  demands  it,  they  can  dive  easily, 
though  it  is  chiefly  when  winged  and  unable  to  fly  that 
they  manifest  this  power.  It  is  said  that  they  sometimes 
dive  in  their  efforts  to  elude  the  swift  descents  of  rapa- 
cious birds. 

They  are  not  rapid  swimmers,  but  sit  buoyantly  with 
the  body  well  out  of  the  water,  and  glide  along  as  easily 
and  adroitly  as  ducks.  From  their  prevailing  dark  hue 
when  seen  at  a  distance,  and  also  from  their  facility  in 
aquatic  movements,  they  are  styled  "crow  ducks  "  in  some 
localities.  Like  the  grebes,  in  their  vigilance  they  fre- 
quently turn  the  head  from  side  to  side  to  glance  over 
their  surroundings.  They  are  less  noisy  than  the  galli- 
nules,  and  we  seldom  hear  them  utter  anything  except  a 
sort  of  "cluck,"  frequently  used  as  they  follow  one  another 
over  the  water,  and  also  as  a  note  of  alarm.  The  most 
of  the  noises  of  the  swamp  are  made  by  the  gallinules 
and  rails. 

Wishing  to  procure  a  specimen  for  closer  examination, 
our  companion,  who  always  carries  a  gun  when  he  goes 
banting,  is  soon  afforded  an  opportunity.  At  the  first 
shot  the  birds  near  the  border  scatter  like  a  bevy  of  quail, 
hurrying  away  with  patting,  splattering  feet  and  whirring 
wings,  though  only  a  few  of  them  rise  so  that  their  feet 
do  not  touch  the  water.  They  alight  several  hundred 
feet  away,  and  swim  yet  farther  off,  turning  their  heads 
sidewise  to  watch  for  pursuers.  Our  specimen  is  about 
the  size  of  a  chicken  two-thirds  grown,  and  its  prevailing 
color  is  a  dark  slate.  The  legs  are  yellowish  green,  and 
the  iris,  already  fading,  is  bright  crimson.  We  are 
especially  interested  in  the  structure  of  the  feet,  for  they 
are  not  webbed  like  those  of  a  duck,  but  the  toes  have 
deeply  scalloped  or  lobed  membranes,  not  united,  which 


American   Coot.  325 

admit  of  a  distinct  movement  to  each  toe  and  yet  adapt 
the  foot  to  swimming.  By  this  arrangement  the  birds 
can  perch  on  the  reed  stems,  and  it  is  said  that  they  can 
sprint  rapidly  on  land.  I  have  seen  them  run  over  the 
floating  vegetation  and  convenient  lily  pads  in  their 
resorts.  Examining  our  specimen  further,  we  note  the 
milky  whiteness  of  the  bill  and  its  strong  contrast  to  the 
dark  background  of  the  head  and  other  parts.  The  upper 
mandible  has  a  projecting  base  upon  the  forepart  of  the 
head,  of  the  same  structure  as  the  bill,  forming  a  frontal 
plate  or  shield  characteristic  of  the  coots  and  gallinules. 
Like  the  grebes,  the  coots  have  a  mere  tuft  of  short  feath- 
ers for  a  tail,  and  short  wings,  though  they  fly  much  bet- 
ter and  with  less  reluctance  than  the  grebes. 

After  the  nesting  period,  which  extends  through  June 
and  sometimes  even  into  July,  the  birds  congregate  more 
in  the  open  areas,  resorting  less  to  their  reedy  coverts. 
After  they  lead  their  younglings  from  the  browned  and 
bent  tangle  of  stems,  they  rarely  return  to  them  except  to 
shelter  their  brood  at  night  in  their  infant  weakness.  The 
young,  like  ducks,  are  able  to  swim  as  soon  as  they  are 
hatched,  and  have  no  further  use  for  the  nest.  It  is  an 
interesting  and  pretty  sight  to  watch  a  mother  followed 
upon  the  open  water  by  ten  or  a  dozen  little  coal-black 
forms,  gayly  decked  with  orange-red  and  white  about  the 
head  and  upper  parts.  The  downy  little  creatures  glide 
over  the  smooth  water  as  lightly  as  the  proud,  anxious 
mother  ahead  of  them.  If  they  linger  in  childish  assump- 
tion or  playfully  to  try  their  powers,  she  anxiously  turns 
and  waits  for  them  to  gain  her  side  before  continuing  her 
course. 

The  swamp-lakes  frequently  become  dry  before  the 
close  of  summer,  and  then  the  coots  are  compelled  to  seek 
their  food  elsewhere,  generally  along  the  margins  of  the 
rivers;  and  they  are  said  to  feed  sometimes  on  land, 
either  by  night  or  day.  The  surface  of  the  water  in  the 
swamp-lakes  is  rich  in  minute  animal  life  suited  to  the 
needs  of  the  coots,  and  the  vegetable  life  is  no  less  varied 
and  abundant.  The  birds  pick  up  floating  snails  and 
various  species  of  aquatic  insects,  as  well  as  young  frogs 
in  different  stages,  worms,  and  other  low  forms  of  life 


326  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

found  in  the  shallow  water.  They  feed  with  relish  on 
the  seeds,  succulent  stems,  and  tender  portions  of  the 
water  plants,  the  bitten  ends  of  thp  tender  bases  of  the 
stems  lying  about  their  feeding  places  making  evident 
their  tastes.  Young  minnows  have  been  found  in  their 
stomachs,  and  along  with  other  matters,  small  pebbles  and 
sand,  the  latter  materials  probably  assisting  in  the  com- 
minution of  the  food. 

As  the  season  advances  the  coots  congregate  in  larger 
companies,  remaining  in  the  swamp-lakes  when  practi- 
cable, or  along  the  margins  of  the  rivers,  until  the  frosty 
nights  of  October  and  early  November.  They  time  their 
departure  with  the  flocks  of  water-fowl  retiring  before  the 
advance  of  winter,  arid  few  are  seen  in  this  section  after 
the  middle  of -November  or  earlier  severe  weather.  They 
are  said  to  gather  upon  the  secluded  lakes,  bayous,  and  in- 
lets of  the  southern  Gulf  regions  in  great  numbers,  but 
many  of  them  continue  their  journey  farther  south. 


LEAST    BITTBEN. 

A  strange,  peculiar  hermit  of  the  swamps  is  the  least 
bittern,  our  smallest  representative  of  the  heron  family.  Its 
reclusive  life  invests  it  with  additional  interest  to  the  bird- 
seeker,  though  its  solitary  turn  and  partially  nocturnal 
habits  hinder  the  general  observer  from  becoming  inti- 
mate with  it.  It  rarely  reveals  its  presence  to  the  visitor 
in  the  swamps  of  its  own  accord,  and  unlike  its  larger 
relative,  it  has  no  well-known  notes  which  guide  the  ob- 
server in  his  quest;  hence  he  who  would  see  something  of 
this  bird  recluse  must  keep  eyes  open  for  all  traces  of  the 
secluded,  silent  creature.  It  is  probably  the  least  known 
of  its  family,  for  it  knows  how  to  evade  the  inquisitive  in- 
truders in  its  tangled  fens,  and  times  its  comings  and  go- 
ings so  well  that  it  is  generally  overlooked  even  where  it 
is  tolerably  common.  In  "Natural  History  Survey  of 
Illinois,"  Vol.  II,  Mr.  Eobert  Eidgway  thus  speaks  of  it: 
"The  least  bittern,  although  comparatively  seldom  seen,  is 
an  abundant  summer  resident  in  marshy  localitie'  through- 
out Illinois,  but  keeps  well  hidden  among  the  tall  sedges, 


Least  Bittern.  327 

cat-tails,  and  other  aquatic  plants  among  which  it  dwells, 
often  permitting  itself  to  be  almost  brushed  against  before 
it  will  take  wing." 

The  habitat  of  the  least  bittern  is  almost  co-extensive 
with  that  of  the  Florida  gallinule,  as  it  is  found  through- 
out the  whole  of  temperate  North  America,  north  to  the 
British  Provinces,  south  to  the  West  Indies,  and  through 
middle  America  to  Brazil.  The  first  migrant  bitterns 
reach  the  swamps  of  central  Illinois  toward  the  end  of 
April,  and  their  numbers  gradually  increase  until  early  in 
May.  As  the  bird-seeker  makes  bis  progress  through  their 
resorts  sopn  after  they  are  established,  he  can  flush  them 
from  their  coverts  generally  when  within  twenty  feet  of 
them.  They  arise  from  the  short  flags  with  labored 
movements  in  unsteady  flight,  with  the  jerky  carriage 
peculiar  to  the  short  flight  of  the  herons,  as  their  long 
neck  and  legs  and  their  lack  of  a  strong  tail  to  guide  their 
flight  make  their  first  movements  in  air  unsteady  and  of 
varying  direction.  They  usually  fly  in  a  straight  course 
or  in  a  slight  arc,  preparing  for  aerial  progress  by  ex- 
tending the  legs  backward  and  crouching  the  neck  back 
over  the  body;  they  point  the  bill  forward,  and  move 
with  strong,  steady,  rather  rapid  flappings,  dropping 
abruptly  at  the  end  of  their  course  like  rails,  or  like  the 
grasshopper  sparrow.  Very  early  in  the  morning,  and 
especially  toward  evening,  they  are  thus  easily  flushed 
from  the  flags.  As  night  comes  on  they  can  be  seen  flying 
from  one  part  of  the  swamp  to  another,  evidently  seeking 
their  feeding  grounds,  for  they  seem  to  be  chiefly  noc- 
turnal in  their  habits,  or  at  least  crepuscular,  like  the  bats. 

If  we  are  careful  in  our  movements,  and  conceal  our- 
selves where  the  birds  are  flushed  most  frequently,  we 
may  be  so  fortunate  as  to  see  something  of  their  move- 
ments. We  may  see  one  now  and  then  walking  over  the 
broad,  circular  leaves  of  the  lilies,  advancing  with  buoyant 
step  and  the  contemplative  air  characteristic  of  the  family, 
thrusting  forward  its  long  bill  with  every  impulse  of  its 
thin,  fragile  body.  While  among  the  lilies,  it  often  ex- 
amines the  culms  of  adjacent  sedges,  glancing  leisurely  up 
one  side  of  the  blade  and  then  up  the  other,  frequently 
finding  some  tidbit.  At  other  times  it  extends  its  head 


328  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

forward  and  downward  among  the  lower  vegetation. 
Sometimes  it  thrusts  its  sharp  bill  into  the  water,  seem- 
ingly to  seize  one  of  the  small  minnows  swarming  below. 
Its  adaptation  to  its  tangled  surroundings  is  exhibited  by 
its  facility  in  passing  over  and  among  the  stems.  At  times 
we  can  see  one  of  them  climb  partially  up  the  culms  of 
the  sedges,  and  clinging  to  the  stems  with  all  the  agility 
of  the  marsh  wrens  as  it  extends  upward  its  long  neck  in 
its  quest  for  food. 

As  the  least  bittern  is  apparently  in  no  hurry  when 
thus  engaged,  we  can  observe  the  most  noticeable  features 
of  its  structure  and  plumage,  for  its  colors  are  bold  and 
striking,  attracting  attention  at  some  distance.  Its  rela- 
tionship to  the  herons  is  shown  in  the  outline  of  the  long, 
sharp  bill,  the  S-shaped  neck,  thin,  diminutive  body,  and 
long  legs,  all  of  which  features  fit  it  admirably  to  its 
swampy  environments.  Its  elongate,  flexible  neck  enables 
it  to  reach  out  for  food  where  the  reeds  obstruct  its  pas- 
sage, and  the  almost  nominal,  weight  of  its  body  admits 
the  bird  to  mount  nearly  to  the  top  of  the  bending  flags. 
Its  length  of  bill  enables  the  bittern  to  take  food  partially 
submerged,  and  its  long  legs  give  it  greater  facility  of 
movement  when  it  chooses  to  wade  in  the  shallow  water 
in  search  of  minnows  and  other  aquatic  food.  Its  bright 
colors  make  it  really  handsome,  but  when  seen  in  its 
natural  environments  of  dark,  moss-grown  water,  brown- 
ish-yellow, dried  reed  stems,  and  bright-green  vegetation, 
its  colors  become  a  mimicry  which  renders  it  almost  safe 
from  discovery,  with  its  leisurely  movements  and  habits 
of  seclusion.  We  note  the  dark  glossy  green  of  its  entire 
upper  parts,  the  pale  buff  of  the  lower  parts,  the  yellow- 
ish-green feet,  and  the  various  ornamental  patches  of  cin- 
namon, buff,  and  orange.  In  size  it  is  somewhat  smaller 
than  the  common  green  heron,  or  "fly-up-the-creek," 
which  it  resembles  somewhat  in  movements  and  superfi- 
cial appearance. 

The  nesting  habits  of  the  bittern  are  doubtless  better 
known  than  the  private  life  of  the  bird,  as  this  is  the  rule 
in  our  general  knowledge  of  bird-life.  In  ordinary  seasons 
the  least  bitterns  begin  to  nest  about  the  middle  of  Ma}'. 
They  are  apparently  rather  capricious  about  their  nidifi- 


Least  Bittern.  329 

cation;  I  have  visited  their  resorts  in  May  at  various 
times  and  failed  to  find  them  nesting  in  that  month,  and 
even  in  the  early  part  of  June,  and  again  I  have  found 
their  nests  soon  after  the  middle  of  May.  Like  most  of 
the  swamp  birds,  they  do  not  in  general  begin  to  nest 
until  the  water  has  subsided  to  its  ordinary  level,  usually 
waiting  for  signs  that  the  water  is  receding  permanently, 
though  they  are  frequently  deceived  and  lose  their  habita- 
tions by  late  freshets.  They  choose  sites  among  the  flags 
in  the  inner  part  of  the  fringing  growth,  where  the  water 
is  deepest.  I  have  never  found  their  nests  in  the  shallow 
parts  of  the  swamps.  The  foundation  of  the  nest  is  a  thin 
tuft  of  flags.  Between  the  upright  culms  short  pieces  of 
dried  stems  are  piled,  the  base  of  the  accumulated  mate- 
rial being  in  most  instances  above  the  water.  The  mass 
is  generally  held  in  place  by  the  inward  pressure  of  the 
culms,  and  is  usually  somewhat  protected  laterally  by  the 
surrounding  stems,  frequently  above  by  the  drooping  tops 
of  the  flags.  The  nest  is  a  substantial  platform,  with  a 
slight  cavity,  in  most  instances  standing  from  six  to  ten 
inches  above  the  water,  and  over  six  inches  in  average 
width  across  the  top.  Sometimes  a  nest  is  more  hastily 
made,  the  pile  of  material  being  only  three  or  four 
inches  thick,  and  fastened  to  the  stems  by  entwining  the 
soft  dried  pieces  about  the  upright  supports. 

Mr.  Nelson  "  always  found  its  nest  supported  at  from 
two  to  three  feet  above  the  water;"  but  in  the  swamps 
where  my  notes  were  taken  the  birds  nest  lower,  as  I 
measured  the  height  of  every  nest  I  examined,  and  found 
none  as  high  as  two  feet  above  the  water.  The  usual 
complement  is  four  eggs.  Frequently  sets  of  five  are 
found,  and  many  nests  contain  only  three  eggs,  the  smaller 
complements  being  found  in  late  nests.  In  rare  instances 
sets  of  six  eggs  are  found.  The  eggs  are  pale  greenish 
blue,  or  greenish  white,  rather  elliptical  in  outline.  They 
have  a  close  resemblance  to  the  eggs  of  the  yellow-billed 
cuckoo,  yet  have  a  lighter  tint.  They  are  a  trifle  over 
1.20  inches  in  length  and  about  .95  in  width. 

The  least  bittern  sometimes  reveals  the  site  of  its  nest 
by  flying  from  it  at  the  approach  of  an  intruder.  Accord- 
ing to  my  observations  of  its  habits,  it  leaves  the  nest 


33u  Sketches  of  Some  Common  Birds. 

oftener  than  it  remains.  The  male  takes  his  turn  in 
brooding  the  eggs,  and  displays  his  interest  in  the  house- 
hold by  remaining  on  the  nest  sometimes  until  he  is  lifted 
from  the  eggs.  When  surprised  on  the  nest,  the  incuba- 
ting bird  will  almost  invariably  protrude  its  bill  upward, 
in  the  vertical  posture  so  common  to  the  larger  bittern, 
though  it  is  not  so  pugnacious,  and  discovers  no  disposi- 
tion to  defend  its  home.  At  other  time  \  when  the  nest  is 
approached,  the  bird  will  slink  from  its  habitation  and 
attempt  to  elude  the  notice  of  the  intruder  by  climbing 
down  among  the  adjacent  stems. 

Whatever  its  movements,  and  some  of  them  indicate  a 
low  degree  of  instinct,  the  bittern  makes  no  noise.  In  my 
observations  of  its  habits  I  have  never  heard  an  individual 
utter  a  call  or  cry  of  any  kind,  though  I  have  listened 
intently  for  it,  and  advised  my  companions  to  listen  for 
any  of  its  utterances. 

Dr.  A.  C.  Murchison,  who  has  observed  the  habits  of 
the  least  bittern  in  our  Illinois  swamps,  says:  "I  have 
never  heard  one  make  any  sound,  and  men  who  have 
lived  in  the  swamps  all  their  lives  say  it  makes  no  call 
whatever."  Dr.  Morris  Gibbs,  another  accurate  observer 
of  bird-ways,  says  that  so  far  as  he  knows  the  least  bittern 
is  silent  and  has  not  been  known  to  utter  a  sound,  even 
when  captured.  Thomas  Mcllwraith  asserts  that  when 
disturbed  it  rises  without  note  or  noise  of  any  kind.  The 
foregoing  is  negative  testimony  of  the  bittern  in  its  resorts. 
On  the  other  hand,  Dr.  Coues  quotes  from  Audubon,  in 
"Birds  of  the  Northwest,"  that  "when  startled  from  the 
nest  the  old  birds  emit  a  few  notes  resembling  the  syllable 
qua,''  and  other  writers  who  refer  to  the  notes  of  this  bit- 
tern, doubtless  base  their  knowledge  upon  this  assertion 
of  the  great  naturalist.  The  weight  of  testimony  from 
the  later  observers  is  of  negative  character,  yet  more 
extensive  knowledge  of  the  life  of  the  bittern  may  prove 
the  affirmative  Ride  of  the  question.  This  bird  would 
seem  even  more  peculiar  if  it  has  no  oral  means  of  com- 
munication with  its  fellows,  no  power  of  expressing  its 
emotions  audibly,  whether  they  be  intense  or  limited  in 
degree. 

The  latter  days  of  the  summer  are  spent  by  the  least 


Least  Bittern.  331 

bitterns  in  even  greater  retirement  than  that  which  char- 
acterized their  mating  and  nesting  season.  The  chief 
incentives  to  animation  are  gone.  Their  younglings  have 
become  independent  aiid  are  scattered  over  the  reedy  area 
in  quest  of  food  supplies.  The  lily  pads  over  which  they 
stepped  so  lightly  in  the  earlier  days  have  become  ragged 
and  brown,  and  the  snowy  petals  and  golden  stamens  of 
the  blossoms  long  ago  ceased  to  attract  their  insect  prey. 
The  clear  waters  in  which  their  handsome  colors  were 
imaged  in  the  springtime  have  become  green  with  moss 
and  foul  with  the  decaying  vegetation  of  the  summer. 
The  flags  have  changed  their  vernal  robes  of  living  green 
into  garbs  of  somber  brown,  and  have  become  bent  and 
tangled  and  matted.  These  are  the  "  melancholy  days  " 
for  the  birds  of  the  swamp-lake.  Is  it  a  matter  of  wonder 
that  uneasiness  fills  the  minds  of  the  birds  of  passage  at 
the  approach  of  colder  weather?  Early  in  September 
the  bitterns  leave  their  resorts,  and  by  the  end  of  the 
month  they  have  disappeared  from  the  locality,  maintain- 
ing to  the  last  their  usual  silence,  yet  even  in  their  seclu- 
sion having  given  additional  interest  to  the  bird-life  of 
the  swamp-lakes. 


[THK  END.] 


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